My Azure Tears
by Twilight Antediluvian
Summary: [COMPLETE] This is a romantic little story, the first HP-fanfic I've ever made.rnHarry Potter is one day assaulted by a furious Draco Malfoy, who accuses said Potter of stealing one of his belongings - a precious jewel called the Azure Tear - et cetera.
1. A Piece of Lost Jewellery

This story is almost finished, it will be around 12-13 chapters long, it seems.

Don't fret, they'll keep coming until I have no malevolent ideas left. grinning nastily

**CHAPTER 1 – A Lost Piece Of Jewellery**

Harry Potter, the Golden Boy of the wizarding world, walked the half-empty aisles of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry without really seeing what passed him by. The day was the first of winter holiday of Harry's seventh and last year and the students who had not already left seemed eager to do so, most being in the dormitories of the four houses. The few Hufflepuff third-year students who raced past him caused no reaction from the troubled young man with the tousled raven hair. The Boy Who Lived leaned on the windowsill of one of the huge castle windows, thinking about Voldemort's last moments. The Second War was over and Tom Marvolo Riddle with it. Harry himself had escaped inside the school walls to be free of the few curious onlookers and journalists still around – he'd had enough of that the first months of the year – and now the emptiness swept him away like a tidal wave. Ron and Hermione had gone to their respective homes, asking Harry to come with them, but Dumbledore had insisted that he spend at least another vacation with his aunt and uncle in Surrey. _What a comforting thought_. He frowned. _Could I ask for a greater reward for risking my life for them and saving the world than to be locked up in the same house as my pestering cousin for two weeks?_

Some of the third- and fourth-years were having a grand snowball tournament in the courtyard, complete with no rules whatsoever. There came puffs of smoke from the chimney of Hagrid's hut, reminding Harry that he had at least one friend still in the region. The thought made his pitch-black thoughts grow somewhat lighter. He sighed and then he yawned. _I really haven't gotten too much sleep lately,_ Harry thought drowsily to himself. He started rubbing his tired reddened eyes – he couldn't remember sleeping well in months. Not since he had... Harry breathed slowly and forced himself to think the thought until its conclusion. Not since he had... killed... Voldemort. It was still worse than hard to accept. He – Harry – the Boy Who Lived, was a murderer.

He was still in the process of trying to get the world to stop twisting and turning under his weary feet when someone grabbed his shirt and turned him roughly, pushing him against the wall and window, the windowsill pressed against his back. In front of him stood the lean, pale and overconfident Draco Malfoy. _That little brat_, Harry growled to himself, his expression confused and angry.

"Malfoy, you..." Draco hit him hard with an open hand over his left cheek and he let out an annoyed: "Ow!" The young Malfoy's eyes seemed to try and burn their way into Harry's soul.

"Potter," he spat angrily. "Where is it?!" Draco's usually ever-close companions Crabbe and Goyle were nowhere to bee seen, something that calmed Harry a little. The two were perhaps not the best wizards of Hogwarts – rather the other way around – but they had more brawn than brains and Harry really didn't feel like defending himself against their stone-fists. So he only had to deal with the annoyed Malfoy. "Well, Pot-head?!" Draco hissed, moving raging fire of the darkened grey eyes closer.

"Where is what?" Harry was truly dumbfounded, but didn't feel like the aggravated little rat needed to know that, so he kept his face straight. For once in his life Draco Malfoy seemed to loose control, pulling Harry closer with force – so close that Harry could feel the Malfoy's delicate vanilla breath on his face – his pale skin whiter than usual with the fury he whispered to the other boy's face:

"The Azure Tear, you fucking dick-head. Now tell me where you hid it!" He pushed Harry away, so forcefully that the Gryffindor grimaced with pain as the windowsill hit his back.

"I don't know what you're talking about, _Malfoy_," Harry growled, now definitely annoyed. "And I wouldn't touch something that was yours with a ten-foot stick." As he finished the sentence a shadowy flash of something, which almost looked like panic to Harry, crept into Draco's usually so calm eyes.

"You have to have it!" The Slytherin boy was fuming, but in a desperate way that Harry had never seen in him before. "You're the only one who could have taken it, Potter, give it back! You don't know what you're messing with," he raged. _Yes_, Harry concluded, _he's definitely desperate. Now that's a new sight..._

"Dunno what's gone into you, Malfoy," Harry sighed. "Or what you're looking for. Just leave me alone, why haven't you gone home to your own great place, now that it's all yours?" A picture of a dying Voldemort aiming a deadly spell at a certain Death Eater made its way into the active part of Harry's brain, and the sight of Narcissa Malfoy, as she drew her wand like a sword to revenge her husband. Harry had not known that a Malfoy was capable of such... whatever had made her turn on Voldemort because he killed that bastard Lucius Malfoy. _Killed... Killed... Murdered..._ The words echoed through his head. _You killed, Hero Boy, now how heroic is that?_

Being so full of his own thoughts he didn't even notice the way the mentioned Lucius Malfoy's son roared at him until his face was hit by all the strength Draco could put into his fist. There was the overwhelming sound of bones crushing. Harry's head felt like it was burning, like the blood in his veins had somehow changed to become absolute pain, intense beyond any reason at the point where his nose really ought to be. Somebody screamed far away, or rather, everything was far away somehow, he felt so... _detached_ from the whole world. The last thing he heard was Draco Malfoy, as he spoke revolted, so close and still distant words.

"Oh Merlin, this is awful..."

Upon waking, the pain came back to Harry James Potter like a hammer-blow to the head. He moaned and opened his eyes slightly, only to realise that he really rather would have them shut – considering how the light hurt. His senses were beginning to return to normal.

"So, awake at last, _Potter_?" Harry sighed, like a man who really wanted to die, but had just realised he would not be doing so for a while. That snappy, sneering voice could only belong to Professor Severus Snape.

"Yes, professor," he answered formally.

"Then I suggest, Potter," said another contemptuous young voice which he quickly recognized as Draco Malfoy's, "that you tell us where you hid my stuff." The whole scene in the hallway came back to the Gryffindor in an instant and he grumbled.

"I don't know what Azure Tear you're talking about and I said I haven't taken anything that was yours." Then he countered with a question of his own, directed at Snape. "Why am I not by madam Pomfrey, professor?" Snape's answer was short and his voice sharp.

"Because Poppy is currently unavailable, Potter. Believe me; I don't treat you because of the fun of it. As soon as you're ready to walk out of this room you will be doing so. Now, what do you know about Mr. Malfoy's Tear?" Snape's question first made Harry confused. _Malfoys never cry, what... oh!_ He felt a little ignorant at that.

"I don't know anything about it, so why keep asking me?" Harry grumbled. After half a second's pause he remembered to add the required "Professor". Snape grumbled, but allowed the slip to pass.

"You know nothing about the Azure Tear, is that correct mr. Potter?" Snape growled, interrupting whatever it was that Draco was trying to say. Harry sighed again, was Snape ever going to believe him concerning _anything_? He had been assaulted by the god-damn Malfoy bitch but of course Snape would never favour the Gryffindor the least when it came to his own little Ickle Malfy-buns.

"I know absolutely nothing at all, professor," he said slowly. "What is it?"

"Malfoy," Snape said, encouragingly. Draco gave off a displeased sound but begun telling his story anyway, however offensive he obviously found it to tell Dumbledore's pet, that horrible little Potter-rat, the Weasel's and the Mudblood's buddy-boy, about things he considered his own.

"The Azure Tear is a blue crystal, perfectly shaped like a crystallized teardrop. It is a great treasure of the Malfoy family's," he lectured. "It's about an inch high and is rumoured to be extremely resilient to physical damage. It has got its magical features too, but you really don't need to know, Potter."

"Mr. Malfoy can't leave Hogwarts before the Tear has been found," Snape concluded, "and since you seem to have been nothing but roaming the corridors of late you shall help him with all your might, mr. Potter. Have I made myself clear?" There were immediate protests from both Harry and Draco, which were quickly silenced by Snape.

"I did not ask whether you two wished it that way, mr. Malfoy, mr. Potter," he said, in a stern voice. "I asked whether I had made myself clear. You will begin searching for the Azure Tear as soon as Potter is out of bed. And I'm really sorry to inform you, mr. Malfoy, but you will have to search together." The comment made the boys protest loudly but Snape silenced them once more. "I'm sure you can imagine why, Malfoy. And as you said, Potter really doesn't need to know." For some reason, Draco Malfoy could not call forth his usual loathing for the entire situation.

Later that day the two were having their evening meal in the Christmas-decorated hall, at the single table that was left during this holiday. Harry guessed that the Headmaster wished to bring the few students who had not gone home closer together. What he had managed to do was to get the few first- to fourth-year Slytherins and Gryffindors who had actually stayed over the holiday to sit as far apart as possible, with the occasional Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw in between to stifle the arguments a little. The only seventh-years left from their two houses were Harry and Draco, constantly trying to stay apart as much as possible, while still staying close enough to talk in normal, but remarkably displeased voices to each other about where they had looked and how much there was left. And as usual, they seemed to have decided to agree on absolutely nothing. At last Draco sighed loudly.

"You're as bad as your friend Weasel. You're both burrowing in the ground, when you could soar like the eagles through the skies, I don't see your point, Potter. Never have." The blond absent-mindedly scratched his cheek, as the raven-haired sent a gaze toward him.

"Well, Malfoy, perhaps _you've_ got a point. But eagles may soar, weasels don't get sucked into jet engines, which is where you'll be unless we find this thing of yours so I can get rid of you."

"Well then, as you're one too thick-headed muggle-wannabe to find it even if it was rammed up your arse I will go looking in the Slytherin common room and dormitories. You will _not_ accompany me there, _Potter_." Malfoy's expression was stern and disgruntled.

"Oh, but I think he will," said a smooth voice behind them. "McGonagall has given her permission that you help mr. Potter search the Gryffindor common room and dormitories," professor Snape said quietly while watching the two boys stare at him before collecting themselves again – Malfoy doubtlessly quicker than Potter. "..._If_ Potter helps you search the Slytherin quarters. Thinking it a fair exchange, I politely agreed. We shall see concerning the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff quarters if you cannot find anything before that." With all the grace and self-control of a Slytherin Head of House Snape strode up to his place and began his meal. Not that the two boys noticed, engaged in a fiery contest of wills, grey diamond eyes meeting green emerald ones, neither of them turning away until professor McGonagall stepped up in front of them.

"You are being childish, boys. I will see you set an example for the youngsters, not teaching them bad habits. Now get on with your meal, the two of you. If I remember correctly professor Snape told me you had a common mission to get on with?" Reluctantly the two boys turned their blazing gazes to their meals once more.

--------------------------------------------

Well, as for yer REWIEVS!! I'd like comments on anything concerning my english spelling and grammaticism and anything else about the language you feel could be righted. But, more important, I'd like comments about the story as such. Any sentence that feels odd, any twists you feel have gone wrong, anything that feels too much or too drawn out, anything you've been missing here (can't promise you I'll change it, but I'll try, at least). AND last but not least... characterization. I know they're not very colourful and they're not going to get very much better at that. They're not the overpowered maniacs I've read some wonderful stories about, but they still have characters and I might not be all too perceptive – meaning I might miss stuff they would've said or wouldn't have.

Anyone who figures out how to push the "review" button before I post the next one gets a mega-hug when I do! grinning madly


	2. In The Slytherin Dungeons

**A THOUSAND AND ONE THANKS TO my lovely and oh-so-cherished REVIEWERS;**

**AngelEyes3405, **yeah you were! Thanks a lot! Uhm, you'll have to wait a bit to get more on the Azure. It's not in writing yet, but it will be. I'm going to post them so that I'll have a chance to write more in the meantime, you won't have to wait so long in the end then.  
**Creativeangel**, Wow! That's awesome! Thanks!  
**Raithen**, love you as always. You're the one I couldn't do without. Beta sounds nice.  
**Starfire Sharon**, Nice to know you liked it. If you were Draco and some precious thing of yours disappeared the first day of winter break, when all your friends had gone and your arch-nemesis was still around – who'd _you_ blame?

Now, onward!

**CHAPTER 2 – In The Slytherin Dungeons**

"You will _not_ be in our dormitory! Check the first-years dorms if you want to, but I'll have no perverted Gryffindork sniffing my bed-sheets," Malfoy roared. Harry Potter was white with withheld anger.

"I never wanted to help you in the first place, Malfoy, so keep your mouth shut. Snape and McGonagall said that we search, so you know what we're going to do, wool-brains?" Harry snarled at him. "We _search_! I don't want to come close to your bed anyway, I'd rather have my own, 'cause I'm pretty fucking tired and I really don't feel like running errands for the Mighty Malfoy," he said, making the last words a drip with sarcasm. Then he turned, opened the door and walked into the neat and tidy sixth- and seventh-years' dormitory of House Slytherin. He was followed by skilful swearing and the heavy thumps of Draco Malfoy's delicate feet as he sourly walked into the room. As Harry bluntly opened a wardrobe and bent to begin the search there was a muffled cry from Draco, followed by the quick thuds of his feet as he ran to Harry and pulled him away from the wardrobe.

"You fucking little brat, no one said you could just walk around and do as you pleased!"

"Would you rather never find this cute little stone-thinghie of yours Malfoy? What if it's in one of those wardrobes, you thick-skin troll asshole?!" Harry yelled with all the might his tired lungs could give.

"If I'm thick-skinned then you could break up mountains with your head, you jelly-brains son of a bitch," Draco fumed, his cheeks growing slightly reddened with anger.

"Snake-loving dungeon rat!" Harry retorted, keeping his tired eyes and body up with pure force of will.

"You ass-licking freak of a mudblood!" Draco's comment obviously made something snap in Harry's head, for in seconds the Gryffindor had hurled his body against the somewhat smaller Slytherin with the might of his anger. Draco braced for impact but nonetheless ended up on the ground, kicking and punching at "the Potter-boy" with a frenzy quite unlike him.

"Get off me, you fucking jerk," Draco screamed.

"Take that back or I'll slit your throat, Malfoy," Harry growled as they rolled through the big dormitory, hitting the furniture as often as each other. Harry got a punch to hit Draco's stomach, which made the blonde cry out and headbutt his chest, with a satisfying moan from Harry's side. Harry in turn grabbed Draco's blonde hair as Draco used his well-manicured nails to scratch red marks in the other boy's skin. Bedposts were cracking, the carpet was almost torn in a few places, Harry's glasses lay shattered in a corner of the room and the two were standing up, locked in a position where neither wanted to be the first to let go, dragging each other back and forth, kicking and wrestling with all their might.

Then Draco stumbled.

Harry felt the young man lose his balance as he backed into a four-poster's short side, falling backwards and dragging Harry with him. With the last powers he had, he tried to push away. The grip loosened, but before Harry could catch his balance again, the loss of sleep that had been bothering him for weeks overpowered him and he fell, hitting his head hard against Malfoy's.

The desperation in Draco Malfoy's eyes was something seldom seen in a Slytherin, and exceptionally rare to come from a Malfoy. He was lying on... a quick count of beds made it Blaise Zabini's. Blaise, who was currently lying severely cursed in St. Mungos and it looked as if, as per usual with Dark Arts-stuff like that, the curse was irreversible. Harry frigging Potter, the wonder boy, had fallen asleep, banging into Draco's head in the process. A head that now definitely hurt. And not only had he fallen asleep, he had managed to do so _on top of Draco_! The situation was unbearable. He tried to move, but the little brat of a Gryffindor was too heavy.

"Thank Merlin Crabbe and Goyle left for home by mid-day... I got to get out of this... _uwaaah_... position..." He snarled at the Hero Boy's sleeping face. "You're lying on me, get off of me and start looking for my Azure!" This was embarrassing. And it could get worse. For three days now had he been without the Azure Tear, vital to him not just because it was a family treasure passed down from his mother... unlike most wished to believe it was not the heirloom of the Malfoy family, but a part of the deceased Narcissa Malfoy's heritance. He swallowed the pain that welled up in his chest as he admitted to himself that his parents in fact were very much dead. Draco Malfoy had never known what it meant to be the son of Narcissa, he had never had to handle the fact that his mother was half-Veela, and that thus he himself... oh Merlin, if he just could reach his wand he could levitate this bastard off of him and continue the search. But the wands had been dropped somewhere during the fight and now he, Draco Malfoy, the heir of the great and proud Malfoy family, was lying below his arch-rival, mister Harry James Potter, trying hard to breathe. He sighed and tried to shift position in the bed, which in turn only led to some rather embarrassing parts of Mr. Potter pressing against him. "Oh Merlin," Draco Malfoy whined. "Get me out of this!"

And the Hero Boy whimpered silently in his sleep, grabbing a hold of Draco's robes. The blonde boy was taken aback. Potter was grabbing his clothing? _Potter is _ruining_ my clothing, most certainly_, Draco thought angrily. _Why couldn't_... the thought was interrupted as the young Malfoy realised something very strange. Harry Potter, miracle boy of Hogwarts, Dumbledore's fearless pride of a Golden Boy, who always managed to land on his feet, somehow... was silently crying. His face was a grimace of pain and anguish as he rose up on hands and knees, head hanging and obviously sleeping still. Draco was just about to try and use the new space to wriggle free as he heard it.

"_MALFOY!_" The raven-haired young boy howled like a lost wolf in pain. Draco tried to bury himself in Blaise's bed. He had never realised how scary Potter could be. Then he shrugged. A Malfoy was never scared. He looked up at the Boy Who Lived, suspiciously, uncertain of whether he just imagined seeing the boy's eyes move back and forth below his eyelids in a panic-stricken way.

"You're insane, Potter," Draco muttered as Harry started to writhe, mumbling to himself.

"No... Stop it, Voldemort..." The name made the Malfoy shudder. He wasn't sure he realised that this little Gryffindor idiot had really killed the great Voldemort. Not that Draco had ever felt anything but hatred for the man who had ruined his life. He had never wanted to be a Death Eater, and he found it definitely reassuring that the mark had never been burned into his left forearm. That would have marked his beautiful self forever. Draco sighed.

"Get off me, Potter, would you?"

"No... Narcissa," the sleeping boy mumbled, making Draco once again listen carefully. What did Harry Potter know about his mother? "Narcissa, stop it!" Harry whined. "No sacrifices, you have a son, for Merlin's sake, _don't forget your son_!" The last words were shouted in panic and Draco Malfoy, thinking he had already experienced enough for one day, had his eyes wide open and was breathing heavily.

"Holy Raistlin, Potter," the pale boy whispered, "what do you know?" In his sleep, Harry seemed to react to the words.

"You knew you could never win against him, Narcissa, why did you try? And he killed you." The expression on Harry's face changed from lonely to terrible, as he hissed. "Voldemort... for my own sake, for Neville's... for everyone whose family you've spoiled, even Draco's... you'll die." The young man's black, unruly hair fell down like waves on both sides of Harry's face, and as he muttered something unheard under his breath he began to cry in silence once more, falling down on the bed and on the mystified, alarmed and now also breathless Draco. And he whispered: "Mother... father..." And then something that made Draco's eyes go even wider than before, his heart seemingly stopping dead in its tracks, his mind in greater disarray than ever before. Why would Harry ask his, Draco Malfoy's, own mother such a thing? Why? The question that had been whispered in his ear resounded like thunder in his head: _Could you really... can a Malfoy love, Narcissa?_

Draco turned his face to Harry's, who had fallen slightly to the side this time. The sleeping face was a mask of determination mixed with fright and fury. He lifted a hand that had been freed as Harry fell, to brush away some of the uncontrollable hair from the face that obviously had seen too much.

"You will tell me why, Harry Potter. I will not back off until I know why." Sighing, lacking the energy to push the other boy off himself, Draco Malfoy fell asleep.

Hours later, Harry Potter woke up in an unfamiliar dormitory, lying on top of Draco Malfoy – something that made him flinch. And his body, mostly his head, hurt like living hell.

"Ow," he whined quietly. "Got me there, Draco, didn't you?" He grinned at the young man beneath him for a second, before he realised that the Malfoy was pained. Greatly, if the expression on his face could be accounted for. Harry rolled off him, but didn't feel like getting up. Draco's breath eased as Harry moved away, but his face grew rather more desperate than relieved. Harry pulled his hands through his tousled hair, watching the Slytherin toss and turn in the bed for minutes.

_What am I supposed to do?_ The thought interrupted Harry's silent studying of the sleeping blonde. _I can't leave him like this, can I? He's a pain in the ass, that's for sure, but he just lost his parents and..._ The images tried to flood into his brain again, but this time he would not let them, holding everything back. _And this Tear-thing, though it seems the problem of that one's mostly that it's a valuable. Those Malfoys – sneaky and greedy, the lot of them._ But somehow he couldn't believe his own thought, as he watched over the Malfoy in question. In a protecting way that he believed the other man would not have appreciated, if awake, Harry extended his hand to take Draco's. It seemed to calm him, in some way. _Weird, really... never thought I'd be comforting a lonely Malfoy, that's just plain scary._ But was it? _Not really,_ he admitted to himself. It was a kind of good feeling, knowing that even this thick-brained, over-confident bastard had his weak moments. _That wasn't a really nice thought_, his conscience whispered to him. _Only, I don't care_, he thought. _He's never been very nice to me, anyway. But that might just be his parents' fault. His dead parents..._ The thought made him shiver with his nightly angst again, his shiver making his hand slip out of Malfoy's. The loss of contact made the other boy whinge, his perfect hand brushing over the sheets, searching. Harry gazed at him for a moment, completely abashed, before reaching out to hold the other hand in his own again.

"What's this, Malfoy?" Harry mumbled. "Getting soft?" And then he smiled at Draco. "You've really got a silly name, dragon. But it fits you perfectly." He let his free hand stroke away a few strands of hair that had been pushed from their usual flawlessness by their previous struggle. "You're rash... cunning... and really dangerous."

He sat there, watching over the young man he had felt such hatred toward for so many years, and as the minutes slowly passed, he felt the hatred wash away like ice melting in warm water. He curiously gazed at Draco's free hand, as it was lifted toward him. The sleeping boy rolled over slightly, stretching further until his searching hand touched Harry's robes. Harry frowned. _Now what's...?_ he thought, just before Draco's hand clutched his robes firmly and pulled the boy closer. Harry landed in an awkward position, his head just barely missing Draco's, their chests separated only by the fist that still held a portion of Harry's robes and one of his legs had rolled over Draco's.

"_GWAH_!" Harry's exclamation was surprised more than panicking and though his eyes were wide, they held no fear. A clear voice whispered in his ear, in a way that made Harry grasp Draco's robes and hold him tight.

"Don't leave me so alone," Draco had whispered.

"Don't fear, Draco," Harry whispered back, calmingly, "I won't." As he spoke the words something reflected the light, a quick hint of bright blue visible somewhere between the two before it disappeared, as suddenly as it had come. Harry frowned and moved away from the sleeping one slightly, to be able to see more closely. And there it was, really, just like that. The fact that they hadn't noticed the grey-blue, tear-shaped jewel before made the young man wonder. _It has to be one of the "magical features" Snape and Draco were so eager to shut up about. _He frowned. _But if they _knew_ this could happen, why didn't they try it? _Harry sighed. _Perhaps they just didn't_ _know._ He carefully picked it up watching it closely to see if anything would happen. When there was no spectacular show-off Harry began to wonder whether this really was the right thing. Sure, had the right shape and size of course, but there was no real colour to it, the way Draco had described it, it was rather greyish. As the notion passed through his head he caught a glimpse of something, deep inside the crystal. _What's that?_ he wondered, curiously holding the crystal close to his eyes, so he could see it clearly even without his glasses. In the depths of the crystal a light could be seen, faint and flickering, but as blue as a summer sky.

"You don't look very much on the outside," he muttered to the crystal, his breath blurring the surface, "but that light you've got deep inside... wow, it's amazing... it's so beautiful." As he uttered the last words the crystal light grew brighter, making him tremble, he just couldn't take his eyes off it. Ever so slowly, it brightened up in his gentle hold until the whole room seemed to be glowing a soft azure blue. As it faded back again, Harry saw Draco's open eyes, fixed on the glowing crystal, a terrible need to be seen in them like it had been written all over his face in white-hot flame. When the light had faded back almost to the minimum it had been before Draco suddenly jerked upright, startling Harry, who still lay on his right elbow, his right hand still grasping Draco's left and his left hand carefully holding the Azure Tear. He sat up, his hand leaving the other man's with little more than a brush that Draco ignored totally, in favour of the jewel his gaze was fixed on.

"Yours, I presume?"

Draco nodded in silence as an answer, still not turning his gaze from the Tear. Harry sighed, for what seemed the hundredth time the last day.

"Here." He held out his hand toward Draco, who slowly took the precious stone back where it belonged, gently putting it in a pocket of his robe.

"Go, please, I want to be alone." The harsh tone was not unusual, coming from Malfoy, but the civil words almost made Harry flinch. Almost.

"Draco," he acknowledged his fellow student before walking toward the door. Now he really had to pack and get ready for his every-holiday detention of going back to the Dursley's. Dumbledore had found it proper that he stayed at least two weeks or so this last year, until he had gotten well out of Hogwarts, a real wizard. He would have to deal with...

"_Aaaargh_!" Behind his back a pale face went paler and Draco cried out as pain struck him with a horrifying intensity. Harry stumbled and spun around, seeing the little figure who must have fallen to his knees on the floor, sitting, with the silver-blonde hair in disarray, in front of the bed. _Now what?_ he thought, panic-stricken. _Why didn't Draco..._ The answer found its way to his brain all too easy. _He didn't know._

--------------------------------------------

Ok, concerning the last chapter I must mention one thing. Thanks to the nameless (because I don't remember his name) guy at who had the raven quotes, including the non-raven "Eagles may soar, but weasels aren't sucked into jet engines", which I blatantly stole for my first chappie. Concerning my changing this from a G-rated fic to a PG-13 rated one... well, let's just say, this story doesn't get really amusing until chapter 7 or so, when things start happening for real. Or rather... when _Slytherins_ start happening for real. Unless you count hugs ickly enough to rate it PG-13, that is... grins


	3. To the Dursleys With a Guest

**OK, I'M ALMOST DONE WITH THIS ONE SO IF YOU NEED TO WAIT MORE THAN THREE DAYS FOR A CHAPTER, IT'S BECAUSE I'M CONFUSED OR HAVE A LOT TO DO. **

Reviews are appreciated anyway, 'coz my posting time is very much due to how quickly my wonderbetas (**Raithen** (my dearest friend ever) and **creativeangel**) finish their work. I probably should give them more to do, shouldn't I? grins

Love ya.

**Diinamichelle**, thanks! Uhm, you see... that's one of those "magical features" I was talking about, I'm sure you can start guessing now. smirks I was trying to hint at that one by Harry's thoughts (much like those when the Azure appeared, you'll see), thus tying it to the mysticism around the stone. Which will, by the way, "go into hiding" for some chappies now, before I solve the riddle for you (in chapter 9, if I don't start doing weird things). Anything you'd like to add/change, just mail me about it ).

**creativeangel **Ok, as for the really quick acceptance between D&H, I have several reasons. But first I must ask what you consider "getting along"... a fist-fight in the Slytherin dorms? Or sleep-talking? My reasons will be added last in the chapter, because one main reason for the _real_ getting along – which will begin in this chappie – is _part_ of this chappie.

**CHAPTER 3 – To The Dursleys... With A Guest**

"I must impress on the both of you the seriousness of the situation! This is not simply a meaningless squabble between the two of you; this could very well bring about critical changes in Mr. Malfoy's life, and we wouldn't want that." He let his stare burn into Harry's eyes.

"But sir!" Malfoy was actually whining, Harry realised. Not that he didn't do the same himself, this was not bad – this was worse! "You can not possibly mean that..." As Draco seemed to lack words, Harry decided time had come to speak up.

"Professor Snape, sir, you can't possibly imagine what problems would occur if I not only have to spend two weeks at my aunt's, but also spend them with... _him_!" The last word was almost choked with tension. Severus Snape, potions professor at Hogwarts, clutched the table so hard his hands went white, strictly controlling every motion so that his exhaustion with the entire subject would not be seen.

"It has been decided by the Headmaster and you two are simply wasting my time. Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter... get packed, you will be leaving with me personally in the morning. The Headmaster has already sent word to your house, Mr. Potter, and I'm sure it will all turn out a pleasurable holiday." The last words were added mostly for the sake of formality and Snape had not exactly counted on the two boys' reactions. Draco seemed to swallow his tongue, giving Harry the opportunity to speak first.

"Pleasurable?!" He exclaimed, though in a low voice, seeing the need not to aggravate the professor further. "Sir, by all means, uncle Vernon would stew me for breakfast and lock Draco in the cupboard! That's not..."

"_Silence_!" Snape roared. "I know it's not what either of you wished for. I would not send Mr. Malfoy there unless it was desperately called for. Which it is," he added, before any further protests could make their way into open air. He sighed. "I recommend that you two make a truce." The boys stood in stunned silence as he proceeded. "I suggest a formal truce, written by myself, with equal rules for you both..." He waved his hand to stifle their objections once more. "_Yes_, equal, or you will find the situation unbearable before long. I shall write it down tonight." At last the two youngsters seemed to realise there would be no getting out of the professor's stern pushing them around. This appeared to relax him somewhat, to be no more than the usual, grumpy potions professor. "The question is not up for discussion. You _will_ be packed by morning, when you both _shall _accompany me to London, where the Dursley family will pick you up. Good evening." However civil, the dismissal was final and the tone conveyed that he would tolerate no foolishness. The boys walked out in silence.

"Ow! Stop walking away from me," Draco scowled. "It hurts no less than it did three hours ago." His words were sarcastic, but they didn't have the evil edge that so often came through between the two.

"Sorry," Harry muttered. "But I need to pack myself and you've been packing half the evening already." He was pacing the Slytherin dormitory like a wolf, or rather a lion, on a leash. He stopped only to fix his eyes on the blonde backside of Draco's head, with a slightly confused look on his face.

"And stop staring at me," Draco said quietly. "It's quite rude. You will have your time, once I'm finished with my packing. You know that." He paused for a second, still rummaging around with his things – discarding this, choosing that. Harry raised an eyebrow. "Didn't I tell you to stop staring, Potter?" Again, the blonde's words lacked their usual acid, as he turned around to return the gaze.

"How did you know I was?" Draco Malfoy sneered, as if to say that it would have been odder if he hadn't known.

"I just knew. Now, if you would...?" He turned back to his packing. Lacking arguments for a refusal and too indifferent to care, Harry continued his circling of the room.

"Why are you this... polite, Malfoy?" Harry kept looking at the floor, kept walking. He couldn't help but let some curiosity slip into his voice, though. Draco's lips curled slightly upwards at the question and his grey eyes glittered.

"Oh, I haven't changed, Potter. Have no fear." He turned, to yet again face the dark-haired boy that still kept his eyes averted, and tried to keep his face under control. _I am not telling a lie, there's not a chance that this is a permanent change... whatever it is_. "I'm simply preparing myself for Sev's truce." Draco shrugged. It took Harry a few seconds to realise that "Sev" must be professor Snape, before he had thought that to its conclusion his schoolmate had continued talking. "It's sure to be a disturbing one, since he always was quite good at forcing his will upon others." His object of attention stopped, frowning a little, teeth biting the lower lip and hand distantly scratching his cheek. Draco sighed inside, unable to discern the whole truth. He couldn't quite figure out what had happened when the Azure Tear appeared again. Nor why it had lost its shine. This greatly disturbed him, but somehow he didn't feel as eager to take his irritation out on Harry as usual, he felt a rather odd... _liking_ for the bastard, somehow. _I have to look into this..._he noted to himself._ Stupidity is what it is_.

"Yeah, what about it, really?" The dark-haired boy asked, pulling Draco out of his daydreaming. "What does he mean 'a formal truce'?"

"Simple." Draco waved his hand, to indicate that he surely didn't think it a complicated matter. "He will write up a contract that regulates what we may and may not do to each other while we are at your family's house..."

"They are _not_ my family!"

"Whatever, Potter. My _point_ is that it will clearly state that we're to be civil to each other, no needless fussing about and probably no name-calling and such. It will be magically sealed, of course. We don't have to lie about how much we love each other, but on the other hand, neither can we express our undying hatred while the contract is functional. Only Sev will be able to break it, of course." Draco smirked in his usual over-confident way, as he watched while the words sunk in. Harry was disturbed.

"What'll happen if we break the contract?" he wondered, anxiously. Draco's smirk grew theatrically innocent and he turned back to his giant trunk in a trouble-free manner.

"We'll probably get severely hexed, but don't worry. It won't be forever, even if it will feel like it." His words made Harry groan.

Several hours later, when they were finally ready in the Slytherin quarters, Harry decided that they sleep in Gryffindor Tower, stifling the Slytherin's aggressive complaints with a simple "I wouldn't fuss if you hadn't stayed here so late that I'll have to pack halfway through the night. Unless you wish to sleep here alone?" With that comment, he turned around and walked out the door, Draco trailing behind and muttering wishful curses at him. _This night is going to be a long one_...

"Good morning," Snape nodded at the two tired students. "Here's your contract, get your signatures on it and I will hand Mr. Malfoy the copy, which you can read on your way to London." He shooed them on and as soon as they had signed the parchment he almost ripped it out of Harry's hands. "Now, I'm not inclined to baby-sit you two all day, come on! Come on!" He hurried them into the back seat of the little car waiting for them.

"What's this, really?" Malfoy sounded slightly disgusted. "I'd have better space in my wardrobes!"

"It's a muggle car," Harry responded sourly. "Probably enchanted. The Weasleys have one, too."

"Ah yes," Snape sneered from the driver's seat. "How can one forget yours and young mister Weasley's little tour in that car your second school year, Potter?" Harry cast an evil glance toward the professor, but decided that silence was a good idea.

The flying car, invisible to muggle eyes, of course, hummed in the snowy air over England's hills. Harry found the trip rather enjoyable, while Malfoy sat quiet; even if the scowl on his face betrayed his emotions he did nothing to spread them. Whatever he had said, the car was quite comfortable, not least compared to the Weasley's. The journey took about three hours and the boredom that settled after the first ten minutes was relieved only by the time Snape accidentally drove into a flock of flying geese, zigzagging wildly to get away from the panic-stricken birds. The two boys found themselves laughing quietly, so that their driver would not overhear. Infuriating the black-haired professor was not a good idea.

The car landed swiftly on the dark asphalt of the street outside London Central Station. Snape checked the surroundings thoroughly and turned visibility back on. It was still very early in the morning, Harry could not _believe _how early it must have been when they left Hogwarts. He had slept for an hour, but he still felt kind of numb. Not that such a feeling was unusual in a situation like this one – he was, after all, going to see the Dursleys again. The only light in the darkness was – oddly enough – Draco Malfoy, who showed great promise with this new, civil attitude. Meaning that he did not attack Harry on sight with his usual smirk and casually snappy remarks – the thought of Draco actually being nice to him was still odd. And then... _Oh please, what have I done to deserve this?_ Across the street, Vernon Dursley stepped out of his shiny little car with all the excess pounds firmly crammed inside a large jacket. The frown that made his face look like a wrinkled leather sofa made Harry put on his don't-pay-any-attention-to-me-face. Draco, on the other hand, smirked in his usual, arrogant Malfoy-way.

"Boy! Get over here, I don't have all the time in the world," Uncle Vernon called out, annoyed as usual. Harry turned to professor Snape and nodded respectfully.

"Goodbye, Professor Snape." Malfoy followed his example and the two boys walked across the street, observed by a professor that seemed to have gotten a slight twitch in the corner of his left eye. No one stood close enough to overhear his muttered: "Take care, boys."

The back seat of the Dursleys car was not as comfortable as Snape's, although Harry still found it quite acceptable. Malfoy, however, looked less satisfied, wriggling and turning in his seat all the time, in pursuit of a softer spot. At first, the boy had tried starting a conversation to fill out the silence, with little or no response from his driver. Before the words even came out of his mouth, as he attempted to speak to his co-passenger, Harry had silenced him with a glance that showed alarm and – to his surprise – a slight amount of panic. Ever since then his only stress-relief had been looking out at the winter-white England and its inhabitants. _How can muggles live like this? It's as comfortable as being tucked up inside a travelling trunk!_ Draco was not in his best mood as the car turned and drove up onto the parking space of 4, Privet Drive. Vernon Dursley muttered something that he hoped was a dismissal and Draco exited as quickly as possible.

After a second he was reminded that no house-elf would take his trunk and went to get it with a heavy sigh. He felt uncomfortable without his robes and, really, he couldn't understand why Harry had made such a fuss about them getting muggle clothing for him – his robes worked perfectly everywhere else, why not in this pathetic little excuse for a town? When he reached into his pockets for his wand Harry came up with a stern look on his face.

"Leave it, I'll get your baggage inside, Malfoy. I don't want to get into more trouble than I already have because of you." His voice was stark, but not cruel, and his comment made Draco's eyebrows lift to new heights. _What in the whole world does the insolent little brat suggest I've done now?!_

"What?" was his only, chilly comment.

"Let's talk about it upstairs, in my room. Now be silent and carry one of the smaller bags." He briefly looked over at Mr. Dursley, who was on his way toward the door, and whispered: "And _no magic_!" Then he silenced any complaint Draco might have had by simply turning his entire attention to carrying the boys' two large trunks into the house.

Draco took his own two smaller ones and followed, his confusion hidden behind his often used 'Malfoy mask of superiority'.

Well in the room Harry sighed heavily, but in a strangely relieved way.

"Now, Malfoy," he said in an instructing tone. "I know that Snape gave you permission to use magic here because you're not used to muggle ways, but I'd really suggest you shut that thought out immediately." He hushed the other boy with a wave of his hand. "No, really, uncle Vernon's going to suffocate me the second he finds anything the least magical around here – no matter who did it."

"Gosh," Draco said, perplexed. Harry smiled shortly at his surprise and continued.

"Aunt Petunia would not turn from her cooking to save me and my cousin would gladly kick my ass for nothing."

"I know that kind of relatives," Draco chuckled sarcastically. "Most of mine are of the kind. But why do you have to care? At the end of year you will be a fully fledged wizard and they are, after all, only muggles."

"You're right. But I've really got the feeling that they will do anything to kick me while I'm down simply because I had the rudeness to force you to come with me."

"But... you didn't!" Again, Draco was confused and frowning.

"Oh, in their point of view, anything bad must come from me."

"Ah, I know that attitude too. Simply didn't think of it that way. I won't ask you about their being your loving relatives, considering that I have a few like them. I see your arguments, but I still think it's stupid."

"You will do as I ask, won't you?" Silence. "Malfoy?" More silence. "_Please_, Draco?" Harry's voice had gone from normal, to worried, to pleading, while the beautiful face he was looking at kept its blank appearance. Then Draco sighed.

"For the moment, but I won't let this ludicrous charade go on for two weeks," he stated calmly. "I will however," he added when he realised that the green eyes still held a considerable amount of anxiety, "tell you if I'm planning something. Might not listen to you," he added with a grin, "but I'll tell you, so you get the chance to run off." _I never realised how many colours green could be._ "I'm tired, where's my bed? I mean, I can't very well sleep on the floor, now can I? And I _won't_ be having constant headaches every night for two weeks."

Harry was relieved. Now this, he had planned for. Not a very comfortable plan, he admitted that, but at least one that worked out. "I'll be sleeping in my old room. We might have to move the bed over by the door to get it close enough, but there it'll be almost on top of the stairs and unless you take walking trips at night you'll be fine."

"Oh." _Figure this building's big enough for even Harry to move around...It's so small compared to the Manor._ "Which one was your old one?" he asked, more for the asking than for any real wish to hear "the Potter's story" as he used to call it. Harry shrugged.

"Uhm... the cupboard under the stairs," he said, just a bit too hasty.

Draco gagged.

--------------------------------------------

HERE are my reasons for having them getting along so well.

**Draco**: Knew from experience that Snape's treaty would force him not only to _seem_ nice to Harry, but to _be _nice, meaning he wanted to get used to it first. This is unclear because it's from H:s POV (though I corrected that slightly). After the little quarrel they had in the bedroom, he was also curious as to what H knew about his parents that he himself didn't (I'm getting to that one, let it take its time). And one more reason that will be my secret until I wish to reveal it grins maliciously

**Harry**: Has only seldom been the one to _invite_ fighting with Draco (which doesn't mean he stops them if they're coming at him), he just doesn't usually trust D. Now, D has valid arguments (the treaty) to treat him nice, thus H doesn't pick a fight. During the scene in the dorms he also realized that Draco is not the black-and-white son-of-a-Death-Eater that he'd always figured him to be and was forced to reconsider a few things.

Is this clear enough in the story or do you want it sorted out?


	4. Breakfast’s Gone & An Unexpected Visit

**OK, I'M ALMOST DONE WITH THIS ONE SO IF YOU NEED TO WAIT MORE THAN THREE DAYS FOR A CHAPTER, IT'S BECAUSE I'M CONFUSED OR HAVE A LOT TO DO. **

Reviews are appreciated anyway, 'coz my posting time is very much due to how quickly my wonderbetas (**Raithen** (my dearest friend ever) and **creativeangel**) finish their work. I probably should give them more to do, shouldn't I? grins

Love ya.

**CHAPTER 4 – Breakfast's Gone & An Unexpected Visit**

"Still can't believe this," Draco said, as he surveyed the cupboard with dull interest. "I've heard of many odd muggle habits, but living in a _cupboard_ beats most. We don't even _have_ cupboards at the Manor, that I know of."

"Most muggles would consider it weird too, Malfoy. Believe me." The blonde shrugged at this, pulled the string to put the light out and closed the door.

"Well, should I feel comforted that I've been dumped with a family even worse than most muggles? They haven't been around the house much, either."

"They probably want nothing to do with my schoolmates – considering they tell everyone I'm going to a school for hopelessly criminal boys," Harry snorted. "Which is kind of close to their opinion of Hogwarts."

"_Boy_!" The roar came from the living room, making the two boys jump a few feet into the air. "Haven't I told you not to mention that name in my house?!" Uncle Vernon's eyes were tiny slits in the reddened face that looked out of the largest room in the house. Draco, supremely annoyed at having been caught by surprise like that, put all his hereditary arrogance into a stare that he shot at the man. Vernon backed a few steps, baffled at such insubordination, and searched for words. Draco, who had already decided that he would not let such a _muggle_ determine his comings and goings, let the stare remain and spoke coldly.

"I believe you have more important matters to occupy yourself with than what names we speak or do not speak, Mr. Dursley, am I not correct? I am, after all, a Malfoy – I ought to be able to take care of anything." Uncle Vernon grew a darker shade of red, although the last sentence made him look slightly confused. But, to Harry's great relief and amazement, he didn't reply but simply growled at them and returned to the living room with heavy, thunderous steps.

"Come, Harry." Draco didn't wait for the boy to follow but simply started for Harry's bedroom. The black-haired made no complaints and followed in silence. Until they had closed the door of his room, when his blazing green eyes turned to his classmate.

"Why? Is your pride important enough to make him fume like that? He'll pester us as much as he possibly can, now."

"But, Harry..." Draco threw himself onto the bed with a bored look. "You don't see the point. When it comes to breaking school rules I almost admire your touch and taste for life, but this..." He rose and looked intently into Harry's hard emerald eyes. "When it comes to your 'relatives'," he sneered, "you're simply a spineless coward."

"Am not," Harry cried.

"Are too," Draco sighed and shrugged. "You don't stand up for who you are because they've been able to hurt you before. Do you consider them your family?"

"They're _not_!" The boy's eyes held a pain that reminded Draco of his own. Not that he ever really loved his parents, but they were after all his family. "I don't even understand how they can be my aunt and uncle," he whined.

"That's because, in a way, they're not." He smiled at the boy's stupefied look. _What am I doing?_ he thought to himself. _Giving family advice to Saint Potter like a sodding shrink... _he sneered on the inside, but kept his face under control. _But he's not what they make him, _he thought sadly,_ this is worse than the dorky Gryffindor hanging out with Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers. Here, he is no-one, and I know he could be more. I never could help myself from pushing promising people in the right direction. _Then his thoughts took a new turn. _But what's right when Lucius is not around to tell me what I'm supposed to do with them?_ He shrugged, mentally. _Let's just see what happens._

"Draco?" Harry looked mystified. Draco realised that he'd been sitting silent while thinking and shivered. He wasn't allowed to loose himself like that.

"Mh, 'scuse me," he muttered. "What did I say?"

"You were just explaining why the Dursley's aren't my family?"

"Oh. Yes. Well, one of the few fluffily emotional things my mother ever passed on was Veela-knowledge," Draco said it as if Veelas were something every other person met on a daily basis, Harry realised. "Where she concluded that 'your family' not only means those blood-related to you, but in an older definition of the word were the people you cared about – and who cared about you in return. Thus, in a way, the Dursleys are _not_ your family. You get my point, Potter?" The boy nodded, looking only a little bewildered. That was after all more than Draco had expected. "Good. Now, I'm going to sleep. We'll see about your spinelessness in the morning." He turned and began to change into his pyjamas, listening to the light thuds of Potter feet as they exited the room. For a short moment, as Harry was furthest away in the staircase before turning back and silently entering his cupboard, Draco felt the pain stir in the back of his head. And somehow... also loneliness.

"Potter, it's absurd," Draco actually raised his voice. "You could _buy _a bed with your parents' money. I could with mine, had I been interested in getting you new furniture."

"C'mon, the cupboard isn't all that bad – you're just being you usual bitc--" Harry took a deep breath and jumped to the next word, "you usual self, Draco." His words made Draco frown angrily.

"I will _not_ have anyone I'm around sleeping in a cupboard! Not you either," he added glumly, as he saw the smirk on Harry's face. "You find a way, or I'll have us sleeping back-to-back," Draco threatened. This, however, did not dim Harry's grin, but only made a raised eyebrow accentuate the sarcasm that shot from his eyes.

"You'd crack if you had to, Draco."

"I wouldn't, I'd only be ready to throttle you in your sleep," the boy replied casually.

"That'd be breaking the truce, you know." The deeply sea green eyes glittered with withheld laughter as the silver grey ones met them.

"It would be, that's for sure. But what's a little hexing compared to living with _you_," Malfoy returned, now obviously suppressing a smile. "And besides, you haven't even read the treaty yet." This made Harry relax as he settled on his bed, watching Draco's slender figure standing by the window.

"Well then, care to show me?" he asked. Draco shrugged and hesitated for a moment, but then he sighed, nodding.

"Why not? It's just fair." At this, green eyes widened in abashment.

"Malfoy, what's up with you? A month ago if I heard you would do something 'fair' to me, I'd run and hide. But now... you just walk around being nice and everything."

"Dunno," Draco said quietly. "It's been coming on since Lucius died, I suppose." He glared at Harry with an arrogant expression on his face. "Don't you dare think I chose this," he hissed. Raven hair fell into a face that seemed to have frozen in confusion, becoming so used to it since Draco Malfoy had come whirling into his life like a cyclone on a sunny day.

"Why would I?" he whispered. The question apparently took the blonde by surprise as he spun around to face the window quickly, but not quick enough. Harry's jaw dropped. _Was Draco just blushing? Better not bring up that subject; he'd kick me purple if I ever questioned his unflappability, truce or no truce._

By the window, Draco stared at his own reflection in panicking amazement. _Merlin, what's happening to me? What's this feeling? Did Harry's eyes really shine in the sun? _Realizing that the last thought was not exactly what he ought to have been thinking he shrugged. _And why doesn't he make fun of me? That way it would be easier._ He sighed, tried to pull himself together and turned around to face the silent questions of the green eyes. The scene his eyes fixed on was burned into his mind.

Harry had lain down on the bed, sprawled with one of his legs still hanging down the side, looking bony in the spacious greyish-blue pants. His right hand lay casually on his chest and his too big, green shirt had slid up to show a few inches of bare skin, the other hand resting under his head, tangled in unruly dark curls, as the penetrating eyes stared up at the ceiling. Draco felt the now-familiar stab of pain in his chest. This was one of the reasons he couldn't stand Potter sleeping in the cupboard, although he'd never tell the young Gryffindor that. The pain had gotten seriously worse since they came to Surrey and now even having Harry out of his sight made Draco's head pound and his knees buckle. But never before had he felt it while he was only a few metres away and had the boy right in front of his eyes. He used every trace of the pride, arrogance and will to survive his father had given him, but couldn't help but fall to his knees. _I will _not_ faint... not faint..._ he repeated to himself, as he heard two hard thuds and felt arms around him.

"Draco? You ok?" he heard that voice he knew so well ask him. The pain went away, but he still felt weak.

"Of course I am, you sodding furball," he mumbled back. "I'm just doing this because it's fun." The sarcasm. The warmth... body heat radiating from the other boy like were he a star in its prime. He winced. _No-no-no, what's this going on?!_ He pushed the warmth away and ignored the loneliness and pain that enveloped him and got to his feet, looking up. In front of him sat Harry, his arms crossed over his knees where he kneeled and a distracted confusion shining out through his dimmed emerald eyes. A confusion Draco was sure must shine through his own shield of arrogance and pride. He forced his voice to become cold and uninterested.

"Should we check the treaty or would you rather sit around the rest of the day, Potter?" Confused green eyes followed Draco's willowy figure gathering the papers from his trunk and settling on the bed. Suppressing a sigh Harry Potter rose and settled by his old arch-nemesis on the bed as they begun rummaging through the few pages of the contract.

"This I don't understand," Harry pointed at a paragraph. "What does 'with malicious intent' mean, really?"

"Never seen a contract before, Harry?" Draco asked, stunned. These were all formalities, nothing new to him, but obviously Harry Potter had a lot of trouble understanding the basics of magically binding contracts.

"Not one like this, this looks like someone copied a few pages of a muggle law-script. Now, please...?" At this, Draco nodded.

"It's magical, so if you mean to harm the other part – me – with whatever you say or do that fits the description... and you see here," he pointed at another column, filled to the rim with compact writing, "that's almost anything. Sev's good at this, like I told you before. Anyway, if you mean harm with it..."

"How do you define harm, Draco?" Harry shot in, making the blonde frown. Either the lion was not listening, or he was more ignorant than Draco had thought.

"Harm is any kind – physical, mental, emotional... anything. But _as I said_, if you mean harm with any of this, you're hexed. But you can do it 'til you die if you only have good intentions. Makes it possible to joke around, but impossible to joke around in a nasty way."

"Heavens," Harry groaned, "this is impossible! No lying, no threatening, I get that, no name-calling, no pranks, no... oh, God." Harry leaned his head in his hands. Draco smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

"You'll be fine – you've done great so far, you'll just have to continue liking me," he grinned. This made Harry growl. Soon, they were fiercely indulged in a brutal fight involving them and their respective pillows. On the first floor, the Dursley's kept peacefully silent.

The morning's light shone in through the window and Draco Malfoy turned in the bed and snuggled up to the warmth beside him. He sleepily opened his eyes and smiled at the black tousled hair, half-buried in sheets, that lay in front of him. Then he remembered to look displeased just in time before the eyes and nose belonging to the same person as the dark hair stuck up and watched him, as sleepily as he had been just a second ago. Now, Draco Malfoy was wide awake, lying in a bed so close to Harry Potter that Lucius would have had him killed for it... but Voldemort had killed both his parents, just before Harry had defeated him finally. That was the story he'd been told by Severus, his godfather, who had been there. _Why didn't you attack him earlier? Then I wouldn't have been so alone..._ A sorrowful light was lit in the green depths in front of him.

"I couldn't, Draco... I was too late." It wasn't until this that Draco realised that he had spoken out loud. _Too much,_ he thought, careful that his thoughts didn't slip out on his tongue and buried his scowl in the pillow. _I'm somehow getting too deeply involved in this... I just know it._ Someone patted his shoulder and crawled over him and the warmth was gone, leaving the young Malfoy to struggle with his nightmares alone.

Some ten minutes or so later, when he had tired of the headache, Draco sourly went out of bed, got dressed and headed downstairs. What he found was a supremely annoyed Potter, rummaging around in the kitchen.

"What's up? You look slightly off track just now." Draco raised an eyebrow. Harry turned toward him and the lightning shooting from his eyes lessened a little.

"They ate it all!"

"What?" Draco was baffled.

"The only food left is some mouldy bread and salami. I hate salami!"

"Salami, eh?" Draco said, smiling. "I could survive that." Then he realised the meaning of what Harry had just said and his eyes widened, his mouth falling open. "Nothing else?!"

"Not a scrap. Aunt Petunia must have locked every little edible thing up!"

"What about the salami?" Draco could not help but grin mockingly.

"That's not edible," Harry frowned, but could not help a tiny smile from making its way onto his face.

"And why don't you unlock the pantry, then?" the pale one suggested dryly.

"I don't have a _key_, Draco _dear_," Harry pointed out, waving his hands in the air to stress his words. Draco sighed loudly and rubbed his temples, before reaching into the inner pocket of his shirt. As he picked out his wand Harry went red – he obviously hadn't thought of it himself. _I really don't understand how he can be a wizard and still not find the simplest solutions. He's got too much muggle upbringing. I have to fix that, later._

"Which one's the pantry, Harry _dear_?" Draco returned the phrase ironically. Harry pointed, still blushing, at a door on the other side of the room. Draco waved his wand at it.

"_Alohomora_!" A clicking sound could be heard. With light steps he walked over to the door and opened it. He was immediately assailed by a cheese that had leaned on the door. He caught it in one hand and studied it with some interest, before throwing it to Harry.

"Put that one on the table, Har," he commanded with a smile, before diving into the delightfully stuffed pantry.

"Yessir," Harry grinned and went over to the table. "Aunt Petunia must have put all her food in there, I've never seen it quite so full before. Not to mention Petunia _never_ puts anything in a place where it's in danger of falling down." He glanced over at the pantry, where Draco was eagerly choosing his breakfast, and added: "You could always take a couple of Dudley's sweets – the ones at the top." And thus, the candy was also assaulted by the happy little blonde, who gleefully levitated the entire stack of candy to the table.

"Might not be very healthy," he said in a trouble-free manner, "but it might be needed if they're trying to starve us. Where are they, by the way?" Draco looked at Harry questioningly before returning his concentration to his wand, which at the moment levitated a pot of honey from the pantry to the midst of the table.

"I suppose uncle Vernon's at work. I'm sure Dudley's seeing some of his horrible little friends and aunt Petunia... well, I don't know. Shopping, maybe?"

"Figures." Draco shrugged. "I'm just happy they're out of the way – at least your uncle knows how to make a fuss and I'm not in the mood for arguing right now." He settled on a chair with a smile and levitated the rest with a few quick "Wingardium Leviosa" and "Accio" charms. Then he smirked. "Do you want to eat standing, Harry?" The comment made Harry blush a second time in five minutes. Draco chuckled.

An hour later they sat at the table, the food put back in the pantry and Harry had learned the usefulness of the Animatus spell over again, as he watched the dishes clean themselves. He had seen it before, of course, at the Weasley's, but he had never thought it would be used in the Dursley home. Somehow it was easier to accept Draco's use of magic today; sleeping on the matter might have made a difference.

The doorbell rang, a loud and urging sound that resounded in the house. Harry sighed.

"I'll get it." With those words he rose and made for the door. Draco sighed and rose slowly. _No need for him to get the impression I'm running in his wake wherever he goes just because I get a headache if I don't_,he thought, lingering a while.

Harry went up to the doorway and pulled it open. Then he stood stunned, as did the visitor.

"Potter!" The first word was exclaimed in utter surprise. It made Harry regain his senses.

"Uh... Zabini. Come... uhm, come in." Still with a mystified look on his face, Blaise Zabini entered quickly and allowed Harry to close the door after him. That moment Draco entered the hall with sure and measured steps and stopped dead the moment he saw the guest.

"_Zabini_?!" he exclaimed, met by an excusing smile.

"Yeah. I was at the Manor, but I couldn't find you there. I've got stuff I want to talk to you about, so I went to Snape and made him tell me where you were. But he didn't tell me you shared the place with Potter." The Slytherin boy looked up at the ceiling with a pondering look on his face. "Though that might have been what he tried to say when I excused myself." At this, Harry and Draco both laughed, met by Zabini's excusing grin. Then he went serious again. "You really got to tell me how this came to be... but what I really came to ask was if you... well, uh... it was only meant for Draco, but I suppose you're ok too, Potter... if you wanted to arrange a Christmas party at the Manor...?" The two boys looked at each other, one pair of green eyes lighting up as clearly as the pair of silver grey ones. That very moment the door opened and exposed aunt Petunia, carrying a bag in her right hand, and Dudley with company behind her. At the sight of the three boys her face went stern.

"I didn't know you had invited another friend." Her scowl was unusually deep to come from aunt Petunia. "Dudley would like to speak to you, now don't shame yourself and don't get seen all over town," she scolded him before shooing the three toward the door. Harry went with a sigh, Draco and Zabini with slightly shocked expressions, not used to being pushed around like that in a new place, but they went along.

The moment they exited the house Dudley's friends surrounded them, explaining in short sentences that they would "talk" over by the playground. Harry understood, having dealt with Dudley's gang before. Draco and Blaise directly saw the parallels to the way Crabbe and Goyle used to behave when they were in "that kind of mood" and the three boys followed in silence, hands ready to take out their wands anytime.

Well at the playground Dudley walked up to Harry, who kept silent and stared intently at him. A couple of insults that Harry ignored later the fat little boy lost his temper and tried for a blow. Harry gripped his wand the moment Dudley's fist connected with his face, staggered a few steps backwards and nearly tore the wand out of its pocket. However, someone else was first.

"_Rictusempra_," Draco Malfoy howled angrily, pointing his wand at Dudley, who spun spectacularly through the air to land breathless on his back in front of his stunned companions. "Ain't it funny how things sometimes look so clear?" he snarled at Dudley. Harry sighed.

"You shouldn't be doing that, Draco. Unless you know some mind spells?" Harry wondered, making Draco snort.

"Of _course_ I know mind spells, Har. One of the first things my father ever taught me was how to make people forget that certain things ever happened. But I've got this feeling that I'll let your cousin keep the pain. One doesn't mess with friends of the Malfoy family and he should learn that." The aggressive stance that had Dudley's gang petrified made Harry smile.

"I _did_ notice the spell though... I've used it on _you_ before, haven't I?"

"Uhm," Malfoy made a face to keep from blushing. "Second year, you know. Lockhart's duelling club?"

"Yes, I remember." Harry nodded thoughtfully. "And after that you used the _Serpensortia_ on me... and Hermione explained what it meant to be a parseltounge."

"It's not fair," Draco muttered sulkily. "You shouldn't speak parseltounge unless you're in Slytherin..." The comment made Blaise burst into a fit of laughter. "Well, we're the snakes, aren't we," Draco whined and this time he _really_ blushed.

"Yeah, Drake," Blaise said, between one giggle and the next, "but come on, that's just plain ridiculous!"

"You know, Draco, the Sorting Hat _wanted_ to place me in Slytherin. Said I'd fit in there," Harry stated with a grin. This made the other two stop dead, jaws dropping almost to the ground.

"It did _what_?!" They exclaimed simultaneously, staring at him. His green eyes were suddenly nervously averted.

"Well, it _did_! Said I had a lot of the qualities that Slytherin had praised. And then Dumbledore told me I got it all – parseltounge too – from Voldemort!" The two Slytherins stood baffled, unable to speak, until Dudley started crawling onto his knees. Then Blaise turned to him, wand pointing in a hostile way.

"You... don't move a finger," he stated coldly. "You've just hit someone who could've been my housemate. Don't make it worse! Drake," he urged his friend. Then, Draco Malfoy did something that eluded Harry entirely, perhaps mostly because he wasn't the object of the charm. Not that he wasn't happy that it was directed at someone else, considering the way the gang twisted and turned uneasily the seconds before Draco let them go.

Then he fell to his knees, obviously tired, and Dudley's friends seemed to have fallen asleep while standing. Harry rushed toward Draco, but Zabini was by his side already, catching him.

"How do you feel, Drake? We ought to get out of here before that spell wears off." Draco nodded silently and let himself be led off by Blaise, Harry trailing behind them.

--------------------------------------------


	5. A First Night at Malfoy Manor

**CHAPTER 5 – A First Night at Malfoy Manor**

"See you Christmas Eve, then, Blaise," Draco nodded charmingly toward his friend.

"It'll be fun spending the Christmas somewhere else, Zabini. Thanks for the good idea," Harry said, smiling. Blaise grinned and bowed, slightly mockingly, to the two.

"My pleasure. I'll leave you to deepen this friendship of yours... really, you must have been left alone for quite a while," he said, apparently still a little confused at the idea. "No one else would accept a friendly relation between the two of you – mostly because no one expects it of you," he grinned. The two boys made a few noncommittal sounds and looked at each other with wondering expressions. Then, Draco shrugged.

"Well, whatever. See you later, Blaise!" With a last wave of his hand, Blaise Zabini apparated out of Little Whinging and Draco turned to face Harry with a slightly panicked look.

"Did I actually say Pansy could help us getting the place ready?!"

"You did. Regretting stuff already?" Harry smirked. This made Draco sigh deeply.

"You don't know what Parkinson might do with my house – not to mention our house-elves – if she's allowed to run around without someone baby-sitting her."

"Well, then we'll just have to get someone to do just that. Or do it ourselves, if you're so afraid of her," Harry laughed shortly.

"Well, I suppose you're right. I guess it's all right with you to move to my place a couple of days before Christmas?" It wasn't really a question and Harry's nod wasn't really an answer, either. Neither had expected anything else. Harry would be eager to get away from here and Draco had gone a little too far when he called number four a "cottage" in front of Vernon. The man's roar of rage had probably been heard at the other end of Surrey. Not that it had moved Draco Malfoy an inch, his unflappability making an obvious impression on the furious man – making him even more upset. At that moment, Harry had grabbed Draco's shirt by the collar and fled.

They sat silent for a second. Then they concurrently opened their mouths to speak, shutting them again as they saw that the other had done the same. Then they laughed.

"I guess Blaise is right," Draco said smiling, "your appearance at the party might be the spark that sets off the real fireworks among the guests. I think you should come late."

"I was thinking we might appear together, they'd really drop dead at that, don't you think?"

"Har, stop being an ass," the blonde joked, "I must be there from the beginning, being host and everything, and..."

"No you don't," Harry interrupted, which earned him an annoyed glance from Draco. "Zabini and Parkinson are the real hosts; you just give them a place to hang out."

"I give them a lot more than that," the silvery-eyed one pouted, making Harry chuckle.

"Perhaps." Then his face got a curious look. "Like what, do you mean?"

"Oh, a lot..." Draco smirked. "Like I'm going to tell you, Potter-boy," he teased the other.

"I'm sure you will, it'll just take some time. Sooner or later, you just won't be able to shut up anymore and then you'll find yourself telling me anyway!"

"No way," Draco sniggered. "You'll just be ignorant little Harriet P until the end of your days!" A pillow flew past blonde hair and elegant, thin lips smirked. "And you've got to learn so much about aiming before I even have to dodge, Har." At first, he thought Harry was diving for the pillow. Too late did he understand this was not the fact, somewhere around when the attacking headful of raven curls connected with his chest and they both flew backwards into the bed.

"Merlin's toes, Harry, you could've gotten us both hurt, there!"

"That was never a problem, Drake," came a taunting voice from a mouth buried in pillow. "The problem was always your overconfidence!" And thus, the rolling began. The two attacked each other fiercely with anything they could get their hands on, which meant mostly the pillows and sheets, and struggled to get the other defenceless. After a couple of minutes the fighting had begun taking the form of a wrestling match between two young men who seemed to have been affected with enough alcohol to club an elephant unconscious. That was the extent of the giggling and that was how serious it seemed. After another five they fell in two separate heaps on the bed. Harry stretched out slightly, watching the ceiling in a distracted manner.

Two seconds later, his arms had been pinned down by pale, bony hands and his legs were locked together as someone lay on them. A fanatic smirk was directed at him.

"I won."

"Ahh," Harry breathed heavily, "didn't think we'd ever make it out of there!" He was kneeling on the thick carpet of the Entrance Hall of Malfoy Manor.

"Well, I can't say you helped a lot," Draco growled. "Standing there, looking like a fool! I thought you'd learned something over the last week." He looked utterly disappointed, Harry noticed. The other thing he noticed was the fact that he himself was actually slightly ashamed that he had so let Draco down. Just two weeks ago the scene would have been impossible, but now Harry stood, walked up to the sulky, pale boy and grabbed his shoulders, saying words he had never before uttered to a Slytherin, meaning them wholeheartedly.

"I'm sorry, Drake," he mumbled. Draco's grey eyes sought his green, mouth opening a little as if he wanted to say something. Then he closed his mouth, averted his eyes and nodded silently.

"Come on," he muttered, "better get you upstairs."

"Draco..." Harry mumbled after a second and the pale boy turned to him.

"Yes?"

"I just remembered... for the party, could I invite Hermione and Ron?" There was a dead silence for a second as Draco's jaw dropped.

"You want to _what_?" he cried.

"Well, they are my friends, after all," Harry replied, furrowing his brow. "I know you don't like them, but I'm in this because of you, you know." Draco sighed and rubbed his temples.

"Har," he muttered, "it's not that I don't want to invite them, I frankly couldn't care less." This offended Harry more than a little, but a minute gesture stifled his protests and he settled for listening to Draco's arguments first.

"You see," the blonde boy said, fixing Harry's eyes with his own, "if I bring them here, there will be certain... problems. I would lose status, but that could always be countered in one way or another. More important – would they have fun along with half a hundred Slytherins? I bet that my friends would feel offended too. I don't think their presence would do any good to _anyone_, Har. Believe me." Harry kept his objections coming for a few more turns, before resigning to what he had realised already with Draco's first argument: They would all feel better if his friends weren't forced to spend a night in a Slytherin household.

The Malfoy Manor was even more impressive than Harry had imagined it when Draco had casually described it one morning, making Vernon, who sat at the other end of the room with the excuse of "watching TV", green with envy.

_Well_, Harry remembered Draco telling him, _it's a four-story manor, fifty-two rooms, not counting the kitchens in the basement where the house-elves work and live. My room is on the third floor, the left wing. The place's bigger than Hogwarts – the family's always been proud of that. _The smirk on the beautiful young face lingered in his mind. _And of course, we've got the stables, the woods... the lake and the Quidditch pitch._ Being quite new to Quidditch still – considering he hadn't heard of it until his first year at Hogwarts – Harry had been awed by the thought of a private Quidditch field.

As they walked through exclusively ornamented rooms, wide corridors and up huge staircases Harry slowly begun feeling like an unwelcome bug at a fashionable party, walking ever closer to the one who had invited him there. When the space between them had closed to a few inches Draco chuckled silently.

"I could always hold your hand, if that'd make you feel better," he offered. Harry laughed nervously.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Well..." Draco hesitated a moment. "Uhm... yes, it is. I kind of noticed when you almost jumped at the sight of Deliria."

"Deliria?" Harry wondered.

"The horrible woman just outside the Entrance Hall, the one who gazed down that bony nose of hers at you and told you that you 'weren't dressed properly enough to enter the Malfoy Estate Manor'," Draco copied the mentioned portrait's high-pitched voice perfectly. "She does that a lot, I'm afraid." Then he stopped so suddenly Harry bumped into him. "Sorry," he mumbled. Then he motioned at the door.

"This is the place?" Harry asked, happy to be there at last since they had walked for at least ten minutes through the huge mansion.

"Well," once again, Draco hesitated for a moment before answering. "This is _my_ room."

"Third floor, left wing," Harry muttered from memory.

"Got that," the blonde laughed, shaking his head slightly. "Can't believe you remembered."

"I _did_ listen, you know." Harry opened the door with an embarrassed grin. Then the grin washed off his face like water off a goose feather. "Gosh," he breathed.

"What?" Draco wondered anxiously. "Something wrong?" He peered over the well-formed shoulder in front of him. "I can't see anything...?"

"It's just... so... big." And that was the simple truth. The room had to be about thirtyfive-forty feet across in both directions and at least ten feet high.

"This is my bedroom." With a happy sigh Draco walked past Harry and threw himself onto the massive bed. "We'll have to levitate a bed in here, later, after I've shown you the other rooms."

"Not the whole place, surely?" The thought of wandering endless corridors and having endless bony Malfoy portraits telling him he was a misfit was not very appealing. To his relief Draco laughed and shook his head.

"No way, just the rest of my rooms. Now if you would please rest? I'm tired."

"You know," Harry said, grinning, "that way of putting it was really odd."

"Sure, Har, now rest." With that, the blonde moved over to the wall to make place for Harry. Which there had been already, considering the bed was big enough for at least four people. Harry silently closed the door behind him and a few minutes later the he had fallen asleep on the soft mattress.

Draco Lucius Malfoy, heir to the mighty and proud pureblood family that had lived here, in the great mansion on the little island in the sea, for hundreds of years, lay on his bed. He leaned on one elbow, silently watching the boy on the other side of the bed.

"I'm glad this bond affects only me," he whispered to the sleeping one. "I must go down to the library and I wouldn't want to worry you. This spell should keep you sleeping for another hour at least and, honestly," Draco beamed an affectionate smile at his silent companion, "you really need to sleep more. You toss and turn in bed like mad. I wish I could read your mind and not only your feelings. Ever since we left Hogwarts they've been getting clearer in my head, I can sense you more distinctly. I've never heard of anything like this, so I'd guess it has to be Veela-stuff. My mother was never very good at sharing what she knew." He silently crawled out of bed and tried to shut out his feelings. That was why he never felt the slight tug of loneliness at the back of his head carried by a pattern of thought he had now gotten used to – it got lost in the wave of emotion that he denied.

With a confident stride he passed numerous adorned doors, walked through a couple of hallways and up a staircase before he reached his destination.

"Fourth floor, at the end of the left wing," he muttered his memorized instructions. He was not here often. He stood before the two heavy doors for a moment and then, with a mumbled word to the silent banshee girl on a portrait just to the right of the doors, one swung open soundlessly and revealed a library at least twice as big as Draco's bedchamber, with shelves standing so close you could just barely walk between them, crammed so full of books there were even a few here and there that lay on top of each other – which looked extremely un-Malfoy-esque.

"Now," he muttered. "Where to find it?" He went over to a large, dusty book in the corner and opened it. "Keywords: The Azure Tear..." he said, loud and clear, "And... Veela... And... Emotional Connections." There were long, odd pauses between the words, in which black script appeared or disappeared rather quickly on the page, in fine handwriting. He nodded slowly. _As I guessed_, he thought. _Only mother's diary speaks of it._ The script on the page had slowly been reduced to one single title: _Narcissa Black Malfoy – a journal_.

"Narcissa Malfoy, a journal," he said. Below the title appeared a series of letters and figures. He memorized them silently. "Finished," he said, waiting for the script to fade before he closed the Book. He turned and watched the dusty writing on the shelves, matching them with the code it had given him. No one would ever find what they needed in here without the help of the Book and if you opened things on a whim, you were sure to face something dangerous pretty quickly. Lucius had never told his son half of what was in here. Perhaps he didn't know.

The fourth floor was filled with secrets. Rather, the fourth floor was _only_ secrets; nothing was placed there if it could be kept public. Few who were not Malfoy of blood or marriage was ever allowed here. Although he had not visited the library for a while it didn't take Draco long to figure out where his mother's diary stood. He took it out of its shelf with a little effort and quickly exited the room. The rest would be for later.

When he woke up, Harry Potter found himself in the softest bed he had ever had. Hugging someone. That "someone" being his former archenemy, the nemesis of his entire school house and, ironically enough, his new-found friend, a pale and slim young man with white-blonde hair and piercing silver eyes.

Then he flinched, ashe realised two things: One, if Draco woke up and found this out, then he would no longer be The Boy Who Lived but rather The Boy Who Lived To Be Ripped Into A Thousand And One Pieces. Two: it actually felt rather good. He was uncertain of which thought scared him the most. The two questions disappeared like snow in heavy rain when the mentioned eyes opened sleepily and gazed into his own. When there was no spectacular show of rage, Harry decided it might be best to slowly untangle his arms, counting on the possibility that Draco was still asleep, even with eyes open. This was met with a displeased groan.

"Don't do that..." Draco muttered drowsily. "Hold me tight as frozen hell and never tell anybody, ok?" Now, anything else, Harry could have coped with. A fit of rage, no problem. Repulsion, just as trouble-free. But this? Lying there, stuck in his own confusion, his companion found his lack of compliance disturbing enough to hiss angrily and more or less burrow into the requested embrace.

"Hard as frozen hell, eh?" Harry said, bewildered. _And this is?_ He wondered to himself. _They need to write a book on this subject: "How to cope when your arch-nemesis acts like a cuddly kitten"._ Unable to think of a better solution, he obeyed. As if reading his mind, Draco gave off a purring-like sound and nestled even deeper into his shirt. Once again, Harry found that it wasn't quite as bad as it could have been. Once again, he was confused and slightly terrified by the notion. _Why would I like having Draco Malfoy cuddling in my arms? My arms that are, in any case, going numb because I'm trying to do as he said. Why did he do that? Why do I conform to this? How can I..._ The train of thought was interrupted by movement. Draco stirred restlessly in his arms, somehow managing to catch his attention entirely. Lying like that Harry found it harder and harder to stay awake and soon he was sleeping peacefully once more, his deep breathing calm and smooth.

The young man in his arms watched him quietly. _I want to stay like this forever_, he admitted to himself. _But whatever time I can get on my own is too precious to waste. I'm home._ The thought didn't feel entirely correct, but he ignored the uneasiness and crawled out of the warm embrace. Then he settled in a comfortable chair by the bed, opening his mother's book carefully, beginning his research.

_Veela... nope, I already knew that..._ he thought to himself as he turned a page. _Interesting, but it's not what I was looking for. Damn the fact that she never wrote an index to the thing..._ His mother had been extremely precise – not writing an index was unlike her, even when it came to something like a diary. Could Narcissa have been so paranoid that she kept it hidden if it should ever come to rest in hands it was not meant for?_ She must have been sure that any Malfoy could find their way through it without the help of an index. How do we stand out in that case?_ He began slowly, trying out different ways. When the classical index-rules didn't apply, he went on to the ones he used to call the "Dark Arts 101"-indexes. Those were definitely Malfoy-esque, but could also be deciphered by any Death Eater. Not that it worked. After another three or so tries his head was pounding from the effort. Sighing, he put the script down. _I can work on it any day. Right now I just need a break..._ Silently, he almost floated over the floor and into the next room. He realized he would not be able to concentrate as much as he wished to while the other boy was that far away – even if the pain had lessened greatly since they left that horrible little house at the end of nowhere, he was certainly curious about how far he could stray and still stay somewhat alert. He had to find information on this and why it affected him so... why his _home_ made such a difference to his headache when only his proximity to Harry had seemed to matter before. Rousing from his contemplation, he decided to move the things he needed into his bedchamber. When he had finished doing that, he stood watching the silent figure on the bed for a moment, before seating himself.

"Silencio," he whispered, creating a wall of silence around himself and the most precious piece of furniture his father had ever bought him. Then he settled and let his hands rest on the sparkling white keys. A few chords later he remembered what his long absence at Hogwarts had begun taking away from him, letting his fingers play over the piano's keys with a speed that spoke of mastery. He run his fingers through complex sonnets of a wide range of classical composers, as the music flowed in the little space. Then he played a wide range of everything, straight from memory – musicals, muggle and magical movie themes alike, wizard psalms and bits and pieces of just about anything. Then, at last, he returned to his favourite – a piece so intimately tied to himself he could never play it to its fullest without weaving his own soul into the flashing fingers across the piano in the hardest piece he had ever learned.

As the last string fell silent inside the piano he stroked its wonderful ebony beauty. _This beauty is unmatched, this love is unbreakable. Nothing can take it away from me... we'll be together forever and nobody will ever have the strength to tear us apart._ He rose slowly and, with a wave of his wand, the piano began floating back into the other room. When that was finished he turned toward the bed, only to find a pair of piercing green eyes watching him intently, leaning on one elbow with the raven hair falling in its usual, messy way.

"It wasn't nice of you to silence the whole thing. I would have liked to listen."

"I don't give concerts, not even to you."

"We'll see about that, won't we?" The grin that was fixed in Harry's face was met by a cold stare.

"I'd have to owe you something, and something substantial at that, to ever play for you. Like I said, I don't give concerts."

"Then I'll just have to get that something, won't I?" Harry's comment ended the conversation as he went out of bed and yawned. "Better get ready, if we don't want Parkinson taking over the place." That, Draco could agree with.

They arrived in the Entrance Hall just minutes before the Slytherin girl, who came through the fireplace with the help of floo powder. She was dressed in lush, purple robes and had a light blue ribbon holding her long hair back.

"Pansy," Draco greeted her.

"Drake, sweetie," she smiled, until she saw his company, when the smile suddenly fell. "_Potter_?!" She spluttered the words out along with an expression of very real bewilderment.

"Parkinson." He nodded toward her, keeping his serenity, although he really wanted to grin childishly. This little game of the Slytherins' was actually rather fun.

"Blaise told me you had a guest, Drakie, but I assumed... well, this was slightly unexpected." Obviously, this girl had a little of the Slytherin wits about her, even if Harry guessed, from what he had seen of her those past years, that she wasn't too intelligent anyway. Draco only smiled.

"How were you planning to wreck my house this year, Pansy?" he wondered.

"Yeah, Drakie, you're going to _love_ this..." she giggled, as they began changing her plans to fit the idea of a traditional Slytherin party – much of which Harry didn't understand a word.

--------------------------------------------

So, there will be no Ron and Hermione at the party, sorry. It would have been fun to try and make them get along with the Slytherins, but... honestly, do you think Draco would have been so stupid as to ruin his own party by inviting them? I don't.

The chapters seem to be getting longer and longer and I don't have a clue as to why... I'm still _trying_ to keep them around 4 pages in Ms Word, but they just keep growing!

I think I'm out of my dead end now, I've got an idea... just let me polish it for a day or two. I would update sooner, but one of my betas goes to a really tough university abroad and the other just recently got the stuff from me... the way it looks right now, with this chapter length and the new ideas, finished work would be expected around 13 chapters or so (_not_ less). Will tell _you_ more when _I_ know more. I was even thinking about translating it to Swedish just for the fun of it, but I probably won't have time for that.


	6. Preparations for Christmas Eve

**AJ586** – see where I'm heading? Next chappie's gonna be the gooey crap! dances around the Entrance Hall scaring Slytherins

**Slytherinkid07** – thanks! If you wanna send me a mail pointing out what you don't understand and what seems unconnected, I'll see what I can do. I've got two great betas, helping me with the obvious problems, but usually they don't complain about the story as such. Aw! I've been author alerted more than once now! is silly and happy

**diinamichelle** - you must be my most constant reviewer, next to creativeangel. Appreciate you soooo much! And here's your reward, if a reward it could be called. ;)

**Silent Truth** – wow! Thanks! That gibberish made me feel so appreciated! Thanks for the cookies, I'll talk to Lucifie and see if he'll save your friend for you grins

**creativeangel** – I don't remember reading that one, care to send me a link? And one to the sequel would be greatly appreciated too. Working on your second chapter, but my inspiration is going low atm.

**CHAPTER 6 – Preparations for Christmas Eve**

"Har, no, no, _no_," Draco protested loudly. "I will _not_ have you disgracing my home in that outfit! There must be _something_ more suitable in your wardrobe?!" The last words were almost panicked.

"There isn't," Harry concluded. "I have my school robes and this one and that's it."

"It's a half-dusty, plain black robe. Have you seen my clothing?" he asked the other, whose green eyes had fixed their gaze somewhere else.

"Well… yes," Harry admitted. He didn't want to think of that. Or of how good Draco had looked in them. Either made him feel ashamed of himself for his lack of clothes.

"What did you think of them?"

"They were…" he sought for the proper word and, before he could help himself, he spoke his mind, "…damn sexy." This made him blush and turn away. Draco, however, showed no outward reaction, even if the words burnt into his soul with an intensity he hadn't thought capable.

"Correct," he said, keeping his voice strictly under control. "That's the dress code of a Slytherin party: _damn sexy_. What you're wearing lacks all style and fashion sense. Now, let's get going."

"What?" Harry whirled around, suddenly surprised. "Where? Why?" This made Draco sigh.

"Well, I reckon you don't know the place. It's a fashionable wizard's tailor I usually go to, Mister Tourmani's. Why? Because you need proper clothes. Now, come on! We want to be back in two hours, before Pansy returns for the finishing touches." With this, Draco dragged a surprised Harry down all the stairs to the main fireplace in the Entrance Hall, where he took some floo powder out of a silver pot and watched Harry intently.

"Now, Har. There is only one rule: Speak. Clearly. I will have your head cut off if you get lost. Understood?" To this, Harry nodded, somewhat nervously. Draco sighed. "You go first."

Harry grabbed some of the powder out of the pot and looked at Draco questioningly. "What should I say?"

"Tourmani's," the blonde said, locking his quicksilver stare with the stormy sea that was Harry's eyes. "Trust me." Somehow, this made the sea tranquil and, with a nod, Harry threw the powder into the fireplace.

"Tourmani's," he spoke loudly. As he disappeared in the green flames, Draco smiled. _Harry trusted me_, his mind spoke sweetly. _If I only give him time…_

Without finishing the thought, Draco stepped forward confidently, throwing his powder with an elegant gesture, speaking in his honey-on-ice-voice the word that his beloved companion had spoken mere seconds before.

"Mr. Tourmani, a pleasure to see you," Draco gracefully greeted.

"Young Mr. Malfoy," the man answered. He was clad in a classy manner and seemed to be the kind to spend two hours of every morning correcting his already perfect outside. "And your guest would be…?"

"This, Mr. Tourmani, is Harry Potter," Draco presented in a graceful way and for a split second the older man was close to losing his face.

"Is it, indeed? Yes, I must say it is quite alike the pictures of him. What can I help you two young men with today, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Mr. Potter needs a new set of clothes, considering his current wardrobe."

"Ah, yes." This seemed to immediately bring forth the tailor in the man's soul. "I will need to take a closer look then. Mister Potter," he commanded politely, "would you be as kind as to take your clothes off?" he suggested, making Harry blush furiously. Draco smiled. He could not deny that this would be most interesting. A few stifled protests later, Draco explained what he was expecting from the garments while Harry reluctantly undressed.

Draco settled into a comfortable armchair, watching as the tailor measured Harry from head to toe. So did Draco, however with a gaze far less obvious than Tourmani's. As he had expected, Quidditch had done a lot of good for the Gryffindor. His muscles clearly marked, and his skin had become slightly tanned somewhere along the way, unlike Draco's own pale silver-hue skin. He was as alluring to the young Malfoy as had he been the exquisite Lorelei herself, with her songs of wonder and vision that spellbound sailors of old times to sail to their deaths.

"Now… let us see…" The older man summoned up some different fabrics and quickly began testing hues and materials with a professional's certain hand. After discarding most, he had some very interesting materials left. Ten minutes later, he had charmed a few pieces of fabric to turn into something that stunned Draco completely.

"Merlin," he breathed when Harry turned around. "Now all that's left is those glasses," he pointed out, levitating them off with a flick of his wrist, placing them carefully in his own pocket. With a few select words, Harry's eyesight was repaired, the emerald eyes widening at the action. "Perfect." Draco's breathed heavily. "Absolutely perfect."

Harry wore a tight, turtle-necked tank top in shining black leather that, from Draco's point of view, emphasized all the right things. Harry didn't seem too comfortable, but the blonde was certain that he would be able to change that, too. And as for the pants… a mix of shimmering dragon scales and forest-green silk that clung to everything, matching his eyes. The dragon scales sparkled like many-coloured flames in the lamplight. At this heavenly sight, Mr. Tourmani nodded sceptically.

"With such short notice, this would be the best I can do. When I have measured you another two or three times I will be able to improve the matching, but for now, as I understood it, we have no time." This evidently annoyed the man, but he said no more of it. "I will create your account here, to where shall I send the note?" Harry's face turned into a mask of confusion, as it had done all too often in the last two weeks, Draco thought, deciding it'd be better if he answered.

"For the moment, you can send them to the Manor. Any change and we will of course inform you directly, Mr. Tourmani." This seemed to satisfy the man and the two boys left for the Malfoy Manor and the stimulating task of keeping Pansy Parkinson from remodelling the entire estate to a fluffy pink-and-purple fashion-palace. Foremost, this was done by Draco's strict order to keep to the first floor. 

The first thing that slipped off Harry's tongue when they were back at the manor was a whining protest.

"I can't wear this!"

"Of course you can," Draco said, smiling. "You will be one of the hottest pieces of wizard ass at the party, which is exactly what I had in mind." He pointed at Harry with the discarded glasses.

"I won't have you disappoint me, nor our guests. Do you remember what I told you about the party dress-code?"

"Damn sexy," Harry repeated glumly and with a hint of panic, as he slowly came to realise that he would be wearing these scary clothes all night.

An hour later, Pansy arrived in her dark purple, oh-so-tight dress, bringing lots and lots of flowers, something that made the owner of the house flinch more than a little, but somehow she got her way and soon the Entrance Hall looked like a wizard's flower garden gone mad. And in the sparkling colours of the entrance hall, they waited. The Slytherin girl ran around the rooms, checking everything. Draco had dressed up – a silver-white velvet shirt held together with a snake-like cord of golden dragon's scales, the long sleeves flowing. The pants were in all hues of red and gold that fire could dream of. Harry couldn't make out what fabric those were made of, and when he asked Draco smiled dreamily.

"Royal Phoenix feathers sewn with dragonheart strings. I've never used them before, wanting to save them for some special occasion." On this, the still blushing almighty saviour of the world had no comments.

An hour before nightfall the first guests began arriving in the Hall. Blaise was first, of course, being one of the hosts and all. The drinks were not very spectacular, but Harry decided that getting drunk might be a good idea considering the comments on his clothing that both Pansy and Blaise had given him. "Spectacular" had been Zabini's observation and Parkinson's statement had been: "Now _that_ is what I call thoroughly sexy". The raven-haired Gryffindor felt entirely out of place and wasn't sure he'd manage to live through the night. But then, Draco was by his side, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder, giving him a heartening smile and then he felt that maybe, just maybe, he could live to tell the tale.

"It's a little sad," Pansy complained. "This'll be our last party really breaking the rules. Then we'll be old enough to do all the stuff we've always done. That won't be as fun."

"Mhm." For some reason, Draco couldn't keep his eyes off Harry. Blaise had taken him aside for some stupid, far-fetched explanation of the kind that only Blaise could think of. Still, the man was his best friend in all of Slytherin. _But he has nothing on Har_, the blonde stated to himself. At last he surrendered to the fact that he would never again consider that dark-haired, green-eyed young man, strengthened from chasing the Snitch for years, anything else than a miracle of a friend. Or, if he would ever… _don't be stupid, he's not gay_. But his mind whispered to him:_ You can make him, can't you? Pride of the Malfoy family, wouldn't that be a test worthy of you? One you'd enjoy tremendously, too…?_

"It's kind of cute, really," Pansy mumbled at him as they both watched Harry's fumbling attempts at discouraging Blaise, in whatever he was planning, on the other side of the room.

"What?" Draco asked, absent-mindedly, making the girl smile even wider.

"The way you and Potter get along. Like the way you've even taken to calling him 'Har', now that's cute if anything," she giggled. Grey eyes went wide and pale face went paler, as Draco's train of thought broke off and his head whipped to face the girl.

"I haven't!" Draco's breathing was heavy and his eyes didn't leave his housemate's. She blinked.

"You didn't realise?" For a moment they were both stunned into silence.

"If you ever…" Draco begun at the same time as Pansy started off with: "You can't possibly…" In the following seconds, the silence hung thick in the air, Draco sighed deeply and Pansy giggled. Then he turned to face her properly.

"You tell anyone and you're one dead woman, Parkinson," he threatened.

"I don't have to," she mumbled innocently. "I've got this feeling you're revealing this all by yourself."

"Oh dear Merlin," Draco whined. "I'm losing it…" he glared across the room. "And it's all because of that _Potter_." He emphasized the name clearly, wondering if this manoeuvre somehow could put Pansy off track, making her forget the incident. Not that he thought so – the concept was too tempting for the Slytherin girl to let go that easily. He continued to glare fixedly at the black hair, a frown on his face. The object of the stare seemed to realise someone was watching him, because he shrugged a little. A second later he turned and looked intently into Draco's eyes from across the room. By now, the pale young man felt like fainting.

That feeling had not disappeared an hour later when the last invited guest appeared through the fireplace with a satisfactory smile on her face. Draco nodded, smiling, toward his housemate and wondered where Blaise had hid Harry. Without his second half nearby, Draco's headache got worse with every passing minute. But to show weakness in front of a hall full of Slytherin students was unacceptable, so he kept a straight face and ignored the pain. When they had all gathered around a podium some square metres large, Draco and Pansy entered the stage. Pansy seemed to be at her best, while Draco mostly looked bored.

"Now where's Blaise?" Draco wondered, irritation tugging at the edges of his voice.

"Right here," came a voice from the other end of the room. As everybody turned to see what prank the young man was trying to play on them this time a shiver went through the crowd and suddenly everything was very silent. _Har… now that's an entrance_, Draco thought, smiling. Beside Blaise in the doorway stood the one person none of the guests would have expected, Harry James Potter, looking relaxed and in control. He was archenemy of many and not least of those, most would reflect, the owner of Malfoy Manor himself. At least, they thought so until Draco raised his cheerful voice in the hall.

"You're late, Blaise, darling. You too, Harry. Now get over here and let's get the drinking started!" And the four conspirators had the rare luck to experience a whole gathering of Slytherins and their Ravenclaw friends look baffled. It didn't take long for the whispers to start. Now, Draco was in his right element. The Slytherins parted before Blaise and Harry as the two walked towards the podium, Blaise with a very Slytherin grace, Harry with all the elegance a lion could muster in the midst of a snake pit. Draco grabbed him by the hand and helped him onto the stage, while the assembled seemed to wonder how the world had turned upside down without them noticing.

"Assembled Slytherins and friends of ours, tonight, we will have the honour of a special guest. Harry Potter will assume the place that he could have had, had the fates not been so cruel," Draco was smirking and obviously enjoying himself. "Tonight, friends all, he will be a Slytherin of Honour." Somewhere in the middle of the room, a young third-year Ravenclaw fainted.

----

Comments? Or even… _reviews_? holding her breath


	7. The Inner Circle Nightingale

A/N: Ok, ok, I know I shoulda posted this far sooner than I did and I hope you didn't just give up on me. I've got school, I've got relations and I've got this weird stuff called "lack of inspiration". I'm slowly, ever so slowly, writing chapter 12 (so yes, even if you kill me for this you could get someone to start my comp and give ya some more… grins).

Oh, honestly. It's on its way, just lemme get past this period of… apathic excuses, last-minute schoolwork and angst because my world is upside down and that feels good…

I owe you all – but most of all my wonderful betas – **Raithen **and **creativeangel**.

Review? Please?

--------------------------------------------

**CHAPTER 7 – The Inner Circle Nightingale**

Draco Malfoy stood on stage, bowing eloquently to his guests. The gathered were beginning to relocate to the places where they could find more alcohol. As stunned as they had been when he had named Harry a Slytherin for the night, it hadn't lasted. It was Christmas Eve, for one thing, and Draco was known for his unusual surprises. The entire first floor had been changed into a place solely designed for pleasure. The Slytherin kind of pleasure. But first traditions had to be kept, and so he gathered the inner circle of Slytherin House around him as the rest drifted off toward the drinks.

"Now, dear guests," he said slowly, "I think you all know what's up." Most of the circle that had gathered around Draco nodded. He let a satisfied smile touch his lips. "Follow me." Draco let his steps guide him out of the Hall, assured by the fact that Harry was still by his side, half a step behind him as the Code of Slytherin prescribed – the one that he had forced down Harry's throat until he could mutter it in his sleep when it was confirmed that he would be at the Manor for Christmas. Everything was as it should be, most of the uninvited nodded respectfully toward the group exiting the Hall, knowing full well that those were the most powerful and respected of every year of Slytherin and, ever so seldom, their closest and most trusted protégés. Every now and then someone raised an eyebrow at Harry Potter's back, but no one was foolish enough to question the Inner Circle.

Draco led them to a room not far from the Hall, working his way through some safety precautions on the door and muttering a few words before entering. Those who entered the room were mostly people Harry didn't know, but from his own year came Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini and a girl he thought was named Mary Greengrass or something like that. Draco made a gesture towards Pansy when they had all entered; about thirty people of all school-year ages, and the girl stepped forward, an unusual gleam in her eye caught Harry's attention.

"Slytherins all, honoured guests. Be invited to the Inner Circle Truth or Dare." She sounded dead serious, but somehow Harry couldn't believe his ears. He had heard of the game, of course. He had watched Dudley and his friends play it when he was too young to understand how boring it got after a while. Was then this what the most powerful of the _Slytherins_ played when they had a party? No, he certainly couldn't believe his ears, but he listened anyway.

"To the first-years and others who are new to this, it might sound strange," she added with a smirk, as if she'd read his thoughts. "I know it did to me, the first time. But as it has been explained every year… can anyone tell me what the mightiest weapon of House Slytherin is?" There was silence.

"Power?" a young voice suggested. Pansy shook her head, eyes dimly watching some spot in the distance, but remained silent. The next suggestion came; "Money?" and was followed by another headshake. A few other ideas went back and forth before someone uttered a word that made Pansy smile, her eyes immediately fixed on the speaker.

"Yes… Leanne Rydell, that's your name, right?" The girl who had spoken nodded. "The Slytherin pride, our mightiest weapon… _secrets_." With those words, the significance of the game dawned on Harry. _Dare could be just about anything in Slytherin hands, but Truth could be even more_. Pansy nodded as she saw how it struck those new to the tradition. "Yes, that's the point. This is a matter of trust." Then the girl Harry had recognized as Greengrass stepped forward.

"Then, Pansy dear, why do we have a _Gryffindor_ in our midst?" she questioned acidly. "You know how we've always trusted _those_," she mocked. Pansy just smirked.

"Calm down, Mary-Ann. You know Draco announced him Honourary Slytherin?" The Greengrass-girl nodded darkly. "Do you mean to say that we can no longer count on our master, our leader at all times, the one who has never let Slytherin down for anything?" Pansy's stare could have crumbled mountains and levelled forests, drained seas and erased entire nations from the memory of the world. "_Are you saying I can't trust Draco_?" she hissed angrily. Mary-Ann looked into those stormy eyes with her brow furrowed, biting her lip.

"You know as well as I that people might be affected in strange ways, Pansy. No one has ever been an exception." Then she grinned, winking. "You know how old Voldie reacted to the presence of you-know-who and he was known for his iron-will and unflappability, too." This made Pansy twitch.

"That's not really the same, Mary-Ann, dearest…" she whispered hoarsely, her body beginning to shake.

_What is she doing_, Harry wondered to himself. _Is she going to cry?!_

"It's not like," she coughed, "like… I'm quite sure Draco isn't enthralled by the sole concept of fucking little Harry-boy senseless." While Pansy's unhindered laughter spread through the room, Draco roared.

"_PANSY_!" And as the ringing of the name between the soundproof walls subsided, Harry stood like struck by lightning, not knowing what to think, and then… giggles broke out across the room.

"Oh, Drakie, dearest," she mocked sweetly, "you know we'd never let you go to someone else." She couldn't hold back a giggle. "You're by far the most stunning, most charming..." and where she lost her voice to her glee, Mary-Ann filled her in.

"Absolutely gorgeous, exquisitely intelligent and cunning, not to mention filthily rich and scarily powerful wizard we've ever seen!" She grabbed his arm as he looked down upon her with a – partly acted and greatly exaggerated – fearful expression. Pansy sighed dramatically and looked like a hurt kitten.

"Do not leave us so alone, Drakie-poo!" At this, Draco's face darkened several hues and his wand was ripped out of his shirtsleeve, pointing at the roof in Pansy's general direction.

"Draw wand, you talky wench," he spat at her, with only a slight hint of amusement in his voice. With a dangerous grin wide on her face Pansy Parkinson let her wand slide out of its hiding place up her sleeve and into her hand.

"Now we're talking, Drakie."

"Don't call me that," Draco murmured coldly, all amusement gone. "_Everte Statum_," he spoke, his soft voice carrying across the room with a sharp edge. Pansy was on the verge of uttering a counter-spell as it struck her, throwing her across the room in a wild spin until she hit the wall behind her with a horrible, cracking noise. And there was silence, broken only by Draco's heavy breathing, his eyes wide for a second before he rushed to her side. He knelt lithely beside the girl who was wrapped in her now-tousled chestnut hair and purple silk and satin, carefully gathering her into his arms. Some strange fluttering things stirred in Harry's mind at the view.

"Pansy, you ok?" Draco whispered softly to her. Eyes glazed with pain looked up at him.

"You didn't have to throw me so hard, you know," she protested calmly, "you could have gotten your message through without breaking every bone in my body." Draco smiled lovingly at her.

"I know you're tougher than that, Pansy. What's for healing?"

"Righthand shoulder took the worst," she stated. "I think everything else is ok."

"Stupid girl," he scolded her. "You'd know better than to upset me." She giggled and smiled up at him.

"We know, Draco dear, but we know you'd never hurt us seriously." She grimaced as he turned her to take a look at her shoulder, picking up his wand from where he had dropped it and waving it, accompanying the wave with soft mumbled words. Pansy gave him a thankful hug, which he accepted with a sigh, and then they stood, in such obvious unison that the older Slytherins smiled knowingly and the younger looked slightly impressed. Again, they resumed their rightful positions.

"Let us get on with it," she said bluntly. She closed her eyes and began reciting something by heart.

"_Before you stand the Circle of Slytherin,  
beware, witch and wizard, as you walk in._

_The Circle's demands must all be met  
the rules are standing, the game is set._

_Witches and wizards gathered 'round,  
in the Slytherin's Circle can be found  
to questions, answers,  
to dares their doers  
no lie may be told,  
one may no deed withhold._

_But remember here, as you walk inside,  
the truth of Slytherin – and our pride._

_That which should here be a common trait –  
any witch, any wizard may negotiate._"

As she watched the first-years' stupefied stares, she smiled pleadingly. Harry leaned in on Draco, who had resumed his place by Harry's side.

"What was that all about?" he whispered.

"Well," Draco looked slightly excusing. "Every year the host Slytherin writes the Circle Map anew. Pansy's just not that good at it, is all." Without further delay, he stepped forward.

"Like Pansy said, whoever goes into the Circle can't back out and get a second chance. You've walked out once, you're out." He held up a hand to silence the objections. "No matter the reason, it's always been that way." Somehow, the rest of the assembled accepted this. "Concerning rules, we have a few. All questions that stand must be answered and all dares that stand must be done. Except for the rare occasion when it's horrible enough for the Year Head to intervene." This had Harry baffled. _Do they have a Head of each school year in Slytherin?_ Then, Draco's voice occupied his entire attention again.

"But, as she clearly pointed out," he said, flashing one of his most charming smiles at the girl, "everything, and then I mean _everything_, is negotiable in the Circle." He didn't even wait for their confirming nods before turning to the empty side of the room and waving his wand slightly. A circle appeared, painted into the floor, about fifteen feet across. Along with it appeared four great armchairs and a couple of cosy sofas, but, Harry figured, they were far too few to hold all twenty of them.

"Oh…" Draco breathed out. "Did I tell you every year keep to themselves? Same circle, different places and all that," he said with a confident smirk. Then he entered the circle and was gone. After him went Pansy and Blaise with Harry trailing along behind them.

The Circle looked exactly like it should on the inside, the armchairs that could have held three Potters each, the great sofas and a little table by each and every one that Harry had not noticed before. He did realise that he couldn't see outside the circle, though, since the only thing he saw there was pitch-black darkness and a few, glittering starts.

Surprisingly enough, to Harry, Gregory Goyle came in after him, but the expected arrival of his constant partner, Crabbe, never came.

"Sit, Potter," Goyle rumbled amusedly, "Vincent's not coming, so you can stop looking for him. We're not connected by the hip, you know." Then he frowned. "Besides, the bloke's too stupid to be of any real use. Brawn can't get you everywhere." And _this_ from Goyle? For the second time of the evening, Harry couldn't believe his ears. But he walked obediently over to the sofa where Draco lay sprawled and took a seat in the end that was not full of pale skin, costly clothing, long hair that sparkled like flowing silver in the moonlight and grey diamonds for eyes. _Where did that come from? And what about the moonlight?_ The moonlight question was simply answered. In the great Outside that had been a room of Malfoy Manor seconds ago, there hung a huge silver moon, surrounded by a silver snake that bit its own tail. This certainly was a Slytherin creation. He was pulled out of his thoughts as somebody knocked on his shoulder.

"Far away, Har?" Draco smiled, holding out a crystal glass, filled to the brim with something… green. Harry took it silently, thoughtfully. _I'm not used to alcohol… this has to be something like that… _Draco swept his own glass contentedly and quietly watched it refill itself.

"Shall we get to the point?" There was an intense gleam in Pansy's eyes, she was unusually eager, Harry concluded. He wasn't really used to the difference, considering that the façade Pansy had always shown at school had made him think of her only as a flimsy little fashion drama-queen. This one seemed to have an intelligent mind and a flair for silly acting. Not to mention that she was quite serious right now.

"We might as well," Draco replied. "You go first, my lady, after all, you're our hostess for the night."

"Yes, and thank you for that, Drake. I'd say we start traditionally." She turned to Harry. "Our year of Slytherin have always raced across the field of emotion first, gets us past the things people find really interesting that I find really boring and you can always ask about the spicy details later. Everything you remember, you must tell." She turned away again, to face the other inhabitant of his sofa. "Draco, dearest of all my friends, traditional truth?"

"Uhm, well…" For some reason, Draco actually blushed. "I really don't think that'd be a good idea." The answer was followed by a long silence, which slowly filled with the sensation of the others' amazement, and then…

"_Draco_?!" Blaise had jumped from his armchair, looking stunned and stoned. He sat down in silence, watching the pale blonde, who wouldn't meet his gaze and in the silence the dark-haired Slytherin whispered slowly; "You have never been afraid of that question for as long as I have known you." This time the blush touching Draco's cheeks was unmistakable.

"Stop fussing about and give me that dare, would you please, Pansy?" he muttered, eyes averted and pale cheeks gone rosy.

"Of course, dear," she said with a nod. "It's been a long time since I last heard you sing…" she spoke to herself aloud, then looking directly at him with a persuasive smile. "Would you favour us with a tune, mister Malfoy?"

"You know I don't do that," he growled at her. "But if that's what it takes to keep you quiet… it can be done." He sighed and sat straight, closing his eyes firmly and taking a few deep breaths. He waved his hand lightly and tunes came from nowhere, the sad and lonely song of a piano, followed by the harmony of a violin as the silver bell sound of his voice drifted out into the confined space.

_I would bring you flowers in the morning,  
wild roses as the sun begins to shine,  
sweet perfume in tiny jewelled caskets  
if I thought you'd ever change your mind._

The song drifted slowly, Draco's eyes still closed, as the Slytherins leaned back into their chairs and let the music wash over them. His choice of song was most peculiar in Harry's view, nothing he'd have expected. But on the other hand, neither would he have expected the sad furrow of the fair brow, the way his voice was woven into the melody, creating a heart-wrenching tune of the absolute solitude.

_I would take you where the music's sweetest,  
and feed you winter fruits and summer wine._

_Show you things you've only read in storybooks,  
if I thought you'd ever change your mind._

A tear dwindled down from the corner of his eye, but Harry dared not move. Then, a strand of pain beyond what the young Gryffindor had thought possible was woven into the harmonics of the star-strewn silver sound.

_I will bring you happiness,  
wrapped up in a box and tied with a yellow bow._

_I will bring you summer rain  
and rainbow skies to make your garden grow._

_And in the winter snow,  
my songs will keep you from the cold._

Draco's silver eyes shot open, a lone tear slowly drying on his cheek. In their depths were unreadable emotion. _He's singing about someone real_, Harry suddenly realised, but did not understand why the realization hurt him so, beyond what he could have expected from someone who had suddenly walked into his life and claimed a position as a friend.

_But what use are flowers in the morning,  
when the garden they should grow in is not mine?_

_And what use is sunshine if I'm crying  
and my falling tears are mingled with the wine?_

The grey diamond spheres that were Draco's eyes had stared into space, seemingly trying to see further than what his present ways would allow. Now he raised the glass in his hand, looking with a dead gaze into the liquid. _As green as his eyes_, he thought to himself. _As green as eyes I cannot live without, as green as eyes that will probably never be mine_. And in the depths of his soul, hope would not die away as it should.

_I will bring you happiness,  
wrapped up in a box and tied with a yellow bow._

_I will bring you rainbow skies  
and summer rain to make your garden grow._

_And in the winter snow,  
my songs will keep you from the cold._

_I would bring you flowers in the morning,  
wild roses when the sun begins to shine,  
winter fruits and summer wine,  
sweet perfume and columbine,  
if I thought you'd ever change your mind._

_If I thought you'd ever change your mind._

And with that, silence settled for a precious time.

--------------------------------------------

"Draw steel, you talky wench!" said by Tim Bell during the creation of the game _Ultima Ascension_, picked from the "Quotes"-section. Yes, yes, I admit it – I just can't resist stealing good quotes and making them my own, but at least I'm honest about it, ok?

The song is one of my recent favourites, sung by Agnetha from ABBA, third track on her CD "My Colouring Book". Unfortunately, I don't know what it's called; I just find it totally heartbreaking and unspeakably wonderful.


	8. How Slytherins Throw Christmas Parties

**CHAPTER 8 – How Slytherins Throw Christmas Parties**

The Slytherins nodded respectfully toward their leader, who had sunk back into a lying position, watching the starry sky above with his feet resting in Harry's knee.

"Beautiful, Draco." Pansy sounded amazed. "It was utterly heartbreaking, but I have never heard you sound so beautiful in all my years."

"It was," Blaise agreed. "That does not, however, change my wish to know what our dear Draco is hiding, but rather intensifies my curiosity. And, knowing the rules, I'm on Pansy's right side, so the question is mine."

"Blaise…" Draco's voice was thin. "Why?"

"Because you have to handle this and I will not have you handle it alone." He also turned his gaze toward the sky and its unnatural moon, avoiding looking into Draco's silvery starlight eyes. "You know we love you. Now answer or know whatever dare that my vicious brain might invent for you." There was a hard note in Blaise's voice, one that stated more clearly than any harsh words that he _would_ have his way, sooner or later. Draco seemed too lost in his mind and tired to hold him back, yet…

"Will you shut up if I choose dare?"

"For the moment, I could."

"For how long?" Draco shook his head absent-mindedly and turned a little to look his black-haired friend in the eye and Blaise considered the question.

"Two days," he finally answered. Draco snorted.

"A month."

"You know I will not go above four days, Drake. Why not settle for that?" A silence that could have been cut with a knife followed, Draco staring intently into the metallic blue eyes in front of him.

"A week."

"Of course, Draco…" Blaise muttered sweetly. "On to your dare, then, shan't we?"

"What will the next foolishness be, brother?" Draco responded.

"Oh, quite simple, I think… let me have a chat with Pansy first, would you?" Without waiting for an answer, Blaise rose out of his chair and summoned the girl to his side, her raising a silencing-shield around the two of them before they began their discussion.

To Harry, it felt like it was going on forever. Why, oh why was the stupid thing taking so long? Draco was in pain, he just _knew_ it, somehow. But he also knew that Draco would not – could not – pass anything the two plotters threw at him. One reason was his honour, but the true reason was that, somehow, Harry knew that Draco was quite aware that the three days he had bought himself would be dearly paid, in one way or another. The shield fell and the two returned to their seats. Blaise looked determined, slightly surprised but mostly determined.

"Draco Malfoy, your dare has been decided. You shall kiss Harry Potter." Jaws dropped and the few people there stopped dead at whatever they had been doing. Those who had been unaware of the topic of the conversation inside the shield all sat dumbstruck.

"_What_?!" Draco then roared, noticeably shocked. "Blaise, you…" The silver-blonde was at a loss for words. Then he lowered his head, acknowledging defeat. "I know you won't re-negotiate this, but be certain, brother, you'll pay for this," he growled. Blaise merely nodded.

"Make me believe, brother, while you're at it. Do it well." Blaise had a strange tone in his voice, Draco was massaging his temples as if he had been struck by a sudden headache. Then he stopped, turning to Harry. He moved closer with the deadly grace of one born of a family who had _lived_ the House of Snakes for generations passed. He gripped the sunburnt chin with pale velvet fingertips, but there was no need to turn it since Harry's frightened eyes were locked with Draco's.

"Relax," Draco mumbled as he moved ever closer. "Is it that big a deal?" he wondered, suppressing the answer he wished to give himself and obviously not expecting the answer he was then given.

"I really can't say, Draco," Harry breathed out, he hadn't even noticed holding his breath until he let it out. "I've never kissed a guy before, you know." And Draco stopped dead.

"You haven't?" It wasn't really a question, but Harry shook his head nonetheless. The lean Slytherin sighed. "I might have expected as much from a Gryffindor, I suppose… but from _you_ of all Gryffindors?" he wondered, looking into the emerald power of those eyes. "The one whom half the school's gays would jump without even asking permission, if only they dared?" Harry seemed taken aback.

"Well, uh… no," he mumbled. Draco nodded thoughtfully.

"Then just relax. Take my hands." He took the hands that fumbled toward his lightly, but with confidence and calm, his eyes not letting go of those beloved sea green depths right in front of him. "Trust me, Har," he breathed and gathered Harry's hands in one of his own, placing the other around Harry's chin and the boy finally seemed to relax.

Velvet lips, the colour of well stored wine met silken ones that seemed made of roses' petals. A delicate tongue carefully pried them open, running over the rosy flesh with loving care, feeling hard teeth and at last touching its mate, and then… he felt response.

It was weak, a slight movement of tongue only, touching the side of his and almost driving him instantly crazy, that gleam in the wide eyes that were the darker green of uncertainty and excitement, making him want to shove his tongue deeper into that inviting cave, throwing himself onto the only one who had ever made him feel like his heart would break free of his body and drift off into the realm of Heaven. And he held it all back, conveying a "trust me" with his calm gaze. His tongue swept over and around Harry's and another slight response sent shivers down his spine.

Harry could not believe his eyes. Neither did he feel that he could trust his heart, his tongue or his eyes, but… for some strange reason, the calamity of those silver eyes, with their long eyelashes and the soft smile he knew curled those wondrous lips that met his carefully… for some reason those eyes were trustworthy. The young man behind them – the very obvious _Draco_ behind them – would not betray him. How he knew, he could not say. A month ago he would have considered Draco Malfoy anything but trustworthy, yes, only a week past they had been no more than best enemies, but a door had opened in Harry's soul when those alluring lips touched his, when that tongue of satin flesh started its slow circling of his own. He could not help but try to touch it, neutrality and detachment were not options and he could not possibly draw away from this… feeling. There was simply no resisting this.

They met in unison, moved like one, their mingled breath warm on their faces. Draco's hand had lost its grip somewhere along the way and he searched fervently for Harry's, whose darker hand gripped its much paler mate carefully, though still with the former trace of uncertainty. Draco's light tongue swept over lips and circled Harry's, unbelievably satisfied as it no longer danced alone. Green eyes wide with surprise, excitement spreading through the two youngsters like wildfire.

Behind Draco's back and blocked from Harry's view, even if his eyes had not been locked with the diamond stare, sat a very surprised Gregory Goyle, a very satisfied Pansy Parkinson, a Mary-Ann Greengrass who had known what to expect, but still could not seem to believe her eyes and a relaxed Blaise Zabini with a pleased smirk on his beautiful face, nodding respectfully to Pansy.

To Draco it felt like all too short an eternity later that they broke off the kiss and he smiled lovingly at Harry, who slowly felt a burning blush creeping up on his cheeks. Fortunately, all the Slytherins had decided to look vaguely in any direction but his, Blaise and Pansy choosing to focus on their gorgeous housemate with his slightly glazed eyes. Blaise grinned.

"Don't you think you'd be better off at the _real_ party, Draco?" he mumbled. Draco turned around and raised an eyebrow. Then his brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed.

"Perhaps," was all he said, before turning around. "Har, if you're coming?" Then, Draco Malfoy strode gracefully out of the magic circle, followed by a most confused Harry Potter. When they had exited the circle Pansy smirked proudly.

"I told you they were just a minute away from ripping each others' clothes off, Mary-Ann, didn't I?" The other Slytherin nodded thoughtfully.

"I didn't really think it was that serious, though… haven't seen Draco so caught in the turn of events since… well… never, I think."

"Of course, darling," Blaise said with a smile. "He's in love… and you two made a spectacular show out there, I even think Draco himself suspected you weren't quite honest with your accusations."

And they all laughed.

Outside, Harry noted, you saw nothing of what was inside, you still only saw the sofas, the little tables and, he realised, one or two little glasses of that green liquid on each of the tables. That had _definitely_ not been there when they went inside.

"What are you looking at?" Draco's voice resounded like silver bells in the room, like they had resounded within the circle when he sang, Harry noted. "No one can enter when the decided number have." Draco smirked, as if his world had not turned upside down just a minute ago. "It's a quaint little thing, that circle-spell. Do you remember that you heard something questioning you about your name when you first entered?"

"Yes, why?" Harry looked befuddled, making Draco's smirk wider and less wicked.

"For usual Slytherins, we're first questioned about name and then year, so that we'll be sorted correctly, but when I entered I named a protégé – namely you – and you automatically went with us."

"Protégé?" The green eyes darkened somewhat, confusion mixed with a hint of anger in his deep voice.

"Yes," Draco said with a nod. "Those are the rules, you see. Had I named you 'friend' it would have asked me several more questions and the circle would have considered you an enemy of Slytherin that had to be kept under tight surveillance." The smirk grew nastier again. "Like I said, a quaint little thing."

"Certainly seems so," Harry agreed, taken a little aback by the complexity of it all, he was quite sure there were more rules he'd never hear of – they were after all the House of Snakes, the ambitious ones, with all their scheming and secrecy.

"Want to go take a look at what our parties are like for the rest?" Draco wondered.

"Sounds like an idea as good as any," Harry replied, trailing behind the pale blonde with that atypical, slightly rosy tinge to his cheeks.

"Wow," Harry said, leaning close to Draco's ear to be heard above the sound. His breath on Draco's ear made the usually unflappable boy feel weak all over, so he simply nodded in response. The music was loud in this room. There would be other rooms, many almost completely silent, some like this one – full of the sound of drinking, laughter and sex. A few tables were occupied by well-dressed Slytherins – and most of the Ravenclaws that had come – that sat, all drinking, some socializing, playing wizard cards or some strange game Harry had never seen before that seemed to consist of two wizards moving _things_ across some kind of strange chess-like board with an amazing speed. Some were dancing across the floor, moving as he had never thought possible. This wasn't what made Harry feel most out of place, though, feeling like he was a rabbit that had suddenly been invited to the fox's den.

All over the place, lying on the floor, on tables, standing or wherever there was place, were people making out. Many who weren't were half-naked anyway. He couldn't quite tell if he was repulsed – like he knew he ought to be – or intrigued. To his surprise, the latter felt more… right, in his mind. This was getting totally out of hand, and he felt like worse was coming up.

"Hello, Potter," a sugary-sweet voice said from somewhere to his right and as he looked over a Slytherin he couldn't name was squirming, quite shirtless and dressed in a short, tight, dark green leather skirt only, _really_ close to his arm. Now this was definitely not what he had planned for.

"Uhm… hello," he managed to push through his dry throat. She winked at him and smiled, what was probably supposed to be a completely irresistible, seductive smile – one that Harry found simply scary.

"Wouldn't you like to show me what the moonlight looks like… somewhere a little less crowded, perhaps?" Harry began to sweat. _How am I supposed to get out of _this

"Sarah," a voice cut off from behind and he thanked any and all gods possible for the existence of Draco Malfoy. "Leave it and go wash your face." The voice had grown icy cold and Harry could only too well picture the face that went with that voice, feeling lucky that it wasn't directed at him. The girl let out a squeaky noise and ran off, while the dark young man turned to face his saviour.

"Thanks."

"No problem," the honeyed voice was real, no mocking fake to make him feel bad. "I could feel your disgust and it was affecting me badly," Draco said, absent-mindedly looking at the well-shaped face, its masculine lips, furry brow and the deep, green eyes that were… blinking at him.

"What did you just say, Draco?" Realization hit the pale young man and he sighed.

"Nothing important, there's this book I have to study, you see? My mum's diary… nothing serious." Harry looked even more confused.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"You'll see when I find what I'm looking for." Draco smiled at him. "For now, I think we need to share a bottle of firewhiskey and go somewhere less noisy, where we can talk without ruining our voices, yes?"

"Definitely," Harry agreed.

Half an hour and a bottle of firewhiskey later – the whiskey mostly consumed by Draco, considering he had a greatly higher tolerance of alcohol than Harry – they found themselves sitting beneath a giant oak, by a lake that glittered in silver and green.

"Our colours, you know," Draco mumbled in a darker ear.

"Schlytherin colours?" Harry mumbled into the air, quite off due to the alcohol.

"No, you dimwit," the Slytherin in question hissed, "yours and mine. Green for your eyes, silver for mine."

"Oh." Harry tried to rise and managed only to fall on his face in the sand. There came a chuckle from behind and he turned to lie on his back. "Well, you try it if it's scho funny!"

"Oh, I can, Har." Draco smirked and stood up, less gracefully than usual and he had to lean on the tree not to fall, but he stood. "Now what do you say?"

"Scheater," Harry slurred. "Bet you can't walk without…" Harry searched for words and ultimately found them, "…holding that thing," he concluded, obviously quite proud of himself. Again, Draco smirked.

"I can't? Well, at least I can speak correctly, you drunk little Gryffindor."

"If you're scho damn good," Harry growled, managing back into sitting position after a few tries, "then do it. Come over here, you Schlythie baschtard!"

"Oooh, I'm scared," Draco swooned dramatically and leaned in on the tree. "I'm threatened by a Gryffin-whore who can't even stand. Well, I can walk." He took a step, but didn't let go of the tree.

"What did you call me?" Harry roared. "Get over here!" To this, Draco only smiled and took another step toward him, still not letting go of his only handhold. And another… and after one more, finally let go and stood straight on his own. Apparently assured by his success, he took two steps rapidly, which led to him falling face-down side by side with Harry, who was laughing so hard he couldn't keep himself up, but fell backwards. With this, the fighting began, although neither of the boys could do more than some light slapping and rolling around on the ground until they had sand all over, both laughing hysterically.

"I won," Harry smirked, pinning Draco's hands to the sand with his own and lying on top of him. The pale growled for a moment, before he surrendered to the heavier boy.

"Oh sure, if you want it," he sighed. Harry's lips curled in a childishly satisfied smile. "What's your prize?" The question took Harry by surprise.

"Uhm… dunno…" his brain felt mushy and his thoughts were swimming around somewhere in there, behind locked doors it seemed.

"Harry," Draco exclaimed, "you can't just not have a prize for the winner!"

"But I didn't… think of it like that," he argued sullenly. "I don't…" Suddenly, a thought appeared in his dull mind. "Play for me later and I'll let you go." This seemed to upset Draco.

"_What_?! You can't be serious," he whined. "I don't give concerts, I told you!"

"You will… if you want to get away from here," Harry purred in a truly, and to Draco surprisingly accurate, Slytherin-esque manner.

"If you wish," he surrendered, "but on one condition." Harry had begun letting him go, but leaned back again, closer this time, his face barely an inch from Draco's.

"And what would that be?" Suddenly, he didn't seem drunk at all. Draco was almost about to re-think the entire thing. He couldn't force such a thing upon… _Who says I force anyone? He could just go for a simpler solution if he wants to_, he concluded before speaking up.

"I need to know you really want this, that it's not just a whim, Harry." It had been so long since Harry had heard Draco use his full name that he frowned and looked intently at the other.

"Yes?" was the only word he uttered.

"If you're not, simply change your terms. But if you really want to hear me play… you have to kiss me first." With this, Harry was back to being his since two weeks usually confused self.

"I have to _what_?" he wondered. _What's this all about? Is Draco… does he… I…_ all thought became irrelevant as he heard his mouth utter the '_yes_' he did not understand. He lowered himself that last inch, lips meeting lips, pulling away.

_This is not what it was before_, Harry thought._ Before… I didn't have a choice. Before, I couldn't really have stopped it, but now_… And his mind threw it back at him: _Does it matter? Does _anything_ matter compared to the electricity of those cold, velvet lips?_

And they accepted each other, lips finally meeting in a closed kiss that sent shivers through them. Harry stood on hands and knees, his still slightly uncertain thoughts overrun by his lips, trying to bury themselves into the lips he had not quite been able to forget since he first touched them, in that Slytherin Circle where only half of him belonged.

_This is… Oh Merlin, he… I would do anything…_ Draco's thoughts were erratic, torn from one subject to the next by the rosy, silk lips on his. _Anything to keep this… Can hardly breathe… Who cares… Sweet… Sweet siren song…Oh, if you would only open…_ _Must not force… His choice only… _Sweat broke forth on his forehead as he held emotion tightly controlled, willing his lips to stay discreetly closed with all of the Malfoy concentration he'd been taught. But he could not keep himself from carefully nibbling those lips, so forbidden and so unbelievably sweet.

_Drake… _Harry gasped. He'd kissed Cho Chang once, but never had she made him breathless. _Sweet gods, I shouldn't… But I… it seems like he really… _The thought was hard to form, Harry had never really considered what it would be like to kiss someone whom you suddenly realised must be… _Gay… Draco Mal… Drake… _Under the careful, passionate ministration of Draco's lips, Harry's knees went weak, his defences crumbled and he broke free… _Not harm Drake…_ just before he fell, knocking the wind out of the pale one entirely.

_He… Broke off_. Draco forced his thoughts to surface, trying with all his might to hold the tears back. _I can't believe this. No air… but how could I care? Harry… He's not interested… and I can't live without him…_ He felt strong arms holding him, but somehow the feeling only intensified the pain. _What use is comfort, when all chance of happiness has been taken away? What use is holding back…_ And the tears of Draco Malfoy flowed freely, tears he had been keeping locked up in his soul for more than a decade ran down his cheeks fast enough to scare him. _I did not cry when my father hit me, I did not cry when he let me down… I did not cry when my mother died… why now?_ Then, he felt it.

Silken lips brushing over his cheek, a satin tongue carefully licking the tears away as fast as they ran down. And the pain ran like his tears, his anguished cry breaking the night's relative silence like a knife. _Won't this ever go away?! Why am I not allowed to simply die, let this pain subside? _A soft hand silenced his screaming and the lips left his cheek. Inside, Draco Malfoy felt emptiness wrap around him. _For the rest of my life, I will be alone… Har… there will be no one to take your place, ever._

That was the last thought he had, before the emptiness subsided and his eyes snapped open to meet the wonder of their emerald brothers, as Harry's lips again met his, his tongue prying open velvet lips and finding its way into the bewildered young man's mouth. Draco could not help but respond as soon as his lips parted. As the night wind brushed past their writhing bodies, the two former enemies drowned in each others' arms, breathless with sensation, the notion of pulling away wiped from the face of their world, that lasted an eternity and more… and they would not let go.

≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡≡

Ok, if anyone's expecting anything hotter than this, I wouldn't count on it. You see… this is me. And I don't write smut, I write romance. Ta-Dah…

I'm currently working on the ending (how come I don't have time enough for everything? I want a 30-hour day, that would fit me perfectly), but it's going to take a little time. Chapter 9 is currently going through the lawn-mower and I'll give you what comes out whole. ;)

Question 1:

I have non-english people in chapter 9. The desiscion I have to make would be either to try and write English with a Russian accent (which I obviously suck at, but I haven't changed too much) or to just write correct English and the accent be forgotten.

Question 2: In chapter… oh, 11 I think, there's a fighting scene. Since I'm so much better at describing fights than smut it got, well, slightly gory. It's not as gory as it _could_ have been, but there's blood and stuff like "and his throat was ripped out with a horrible sound". Does that qualify to re-rate the fic to a higher-level rating?

And of course REVIEWERS I LOVE YOU!

Can I get you something? Tea or coffee? Kill somebody for you alone to prove how much I adore your reviews? Any word, anything above two letters is worthy of a great "hooray" and you have deserved SO much more than that!

**Trinity Vida-Malfoy**, thanks for the support – it is muchly appreciated hops around doing silly things! **AJ586**, wow, that's a better review than I've earned, bows deeply **CreativeAngel**, ever grateful for your skills as a beta! **diinamichelle**, yes, school is tough when you get to those periods, but I hope to be slightly quicker (though I'm having a bit of trouble kicking and trashing the ending into place looks innocentgrins)


	9. The Secret of the Azure Tear

A/N: You know, I could have made this one a horrible cliffie, but being the _nice_ and _awesome_ person I am I actually gave you _one_ very special answer… or more questions.

A/N 2: If anyone would like to make art for this (because I'm sadly inept), I'd be more than delighted. Thanks.

ONWARD! _Charge_, my knights of Death, Terror, Twilight and Giddy Little Rabbits!

**CHAPTER 9 – The Secret of the Azure Tear**

Draco woke little by little, drifting to consciousness like a lost fish in a huge, black sea, that rose to the surface ever so slowly. Finally, he felt someone tapping his shoulder and speaking his name quietly.

"Draco?" the voice said, but something was strange about the sound his name made. A sudden snicker came from somewhere behind his head. _Am I lying on sand?_ he wondered to himself.

"Why don't you tell him professor Snape's here or something like that, it might wake him up, brother," a voice quite like the one closer to his head spoke. There was some weird accent to them that he felt he should know, but in his befuddled state the recognition didn't want to come. _I _am_ lying on sand… why am I lying on sand?_

"Ah, or the house-elves rioting?" The first voice suggested amusedly, his voice making a funny, delicate rumbling every time he spoke the letter 'r'. "Or why not the truth, since we are after all speaking to a dead man, it seems?" The voice was joking, but slightly worried.

"Not dead yet," Draco mumbled as his sight began to clear, his words greeted with a breathed sigh of relief. He found himself looking up into the finely shaped features of a man's pale face, even paler than his own and almost white. He knew well the dark, blue-black hair that streamed down the face, on both sides of those high cheekbones and the icy blue eyes – this man could only be…

"Ivan Anadyr, what in Merlin's name are you doing here?" Draco muttered as he struggled to rise and felt something in his way – someone lying on top of him – and he suddenly remembered the night before oh-so-clearly.

"Visiting, perhaps?" the man smirked mockingly.

"Yes… well… could you help me up, Ivan?" Draco wondered, his cheeks somewhat more reddened than usual. Another smirk curled the raven-haired man's lips and a flick of wand later Harry was floating, still sleeping, in the air and Draco staggered to his feet. "Be careful with him," he said, motioning toward Harry, and Ivan nodded silently. There had been more, Draco remembered. Someone else… he turned around and saw two young men, exactly identical faces that looked like Ivan's, only slightly younger and the hair they had bound back with black leather was golden like autumn leaves, eyes as blue as summer skies and skin winter white.

"Drahco," one of them greeted, somehow prolonging and changing the 'a' and rolling on the 'r' until it sounded like quite another name, the other one nodding respectfully.

"Vladimir," Draco acknowledged first before switching his gaze to the second brother, "Antonin," he nodded to the two, smiling. He glanced over at Harry, whom Ivan had turned into standing position, still holding him up magically. Once more turning to Ivan he spoke: "Perhaps we should wake him now?" It wasn't really a question, but he waited respectfully for the older man's answer anyway.

"Perhaps and perhaps not. Our beloved sister, Akasya, came from your party last night, bringing tidings concerning this young man and the trouble he is involved in."

"Trouble?" Draco started.

"You did not know, Malfoy?" Vladimir asked him. "Somebody speaking too loudly of the…" The young man paused for a moment, drawing breath, before continuing, "…relationship this young man had to you. Akasya was concerned and Ivan assured her that your father's old companions be not very happy."

"I understand," Draco breathed silently. "We'd better get inside." In silence, the four young men guided the sleeping one, floating through the air half an inch above the ground with Draco's arm around his waist.

"What should we do?" Draco's voice was worried and he glanced constantly toward the door to the room where Harry lay sleeping.

"We do have a plan," Ivan answered slowly.

"What is it?" Draco's face was stern, though worried, and Ivan grinned viciously.

"As we have planned it… it would be best if Harry Potter knew little – he will act in more favourable way if he is truly unaware of what is done. I and my brothers spoke to miss Parkinson and mister Zabini when we knew not where to find you. Zabini did have some ideas."

"Yes, yes, I know Blaise. I figure he had _quite_ a few ideas before you were able to silence him. The man has an overactive imagination," Draco muttered.

"Nonetheless," Antonin said, smiling, "that overactive imagination quite being an asset to us at the moment. Zabini has excellent strategy, if time is on his side." For a moment, the four men sat in silence, looking at each other, evaluating each other, and then Draco nodded slowly.

"You're absolutely right, Antonin. I wouldn't be too surprised if Akasya sent a few strategies of her own on for the road?"

"Of course, how could she not?" Antonin mused. The three were quite proud of their sister, a young woman with chestnut hair, the same fair skin as her brothers, eyes that had scared Draco halfway out of his wits the first time he saw her – they were completely white but for the jet-black pupils. She was as masculine as any one of her brothers, but with a feminine beauty and a truly wicked streak to her personality. The Anadyr brothers usually compared their sister's character with that of a black bear stuck in a really uncomfortable part of Siberia or, when she was in a foul mood, a frenzied Norwegian Ridgeback dragon. Then of course, she got along strikingly well with the dragons in the Malfoy Estate's caverns.

"Well, should we get to business? You said you had a plan?"

"Yes," Ivan nodded, "effective yet simple, indeed. Listen now…"

Harry woke up in a warm bed, feeling scorched and washed and turned inside out. _A bath would do me good… but where's Draco?_ He let his eyes scan the room, revealing that he was in Draco's bedroom – in Draco's bed – but there was no Draco to be found. The piano was standing deserted in the centre of the room, empty and lonely-looking. _It was something about a piano… Draco singing… kissing…_ And for a moment, his brain seemed to stop working. _Wait! Kissing? _Kissing _Draco Malfoy? And how come I remember it with this… this tingle… this strange, warm feeling? Can I… could he… _and suddenly, the question answered itself, entirely without his consent. _He loved me… and I… I loved him._ The thought was too immensely far-fetched for him to grasp. Somehow, he just knew it to be true, but he couldn't make himself believe it. _We couldn't fall in love. Can Malfoys love? Could I ever even consider the possibility of falling in love with one?_

"I have to try again, it's a thing concerning my relationship to Harry," Draco tried to explain. "I believe my mother left me clues, but I can't find the index… or the key… or password, or whatever she did to keep it from anyone non-Malfoy."

"I see," was all Ivan said, Vladimir and Antonin staying quiet. Draco moved up to the painting and waved to the banshee on it.

"Draco," she acknowledged sternly, "password, please." He sighed heavily.

"I've been here every day since I got back, even time and again before that, now _why_ do you keep asking me for that stupid password?" he growled at her, not really questioning her, but rather slightly upset that such idiocies kept him from working at top efficiency. She smiled slightly, which was a rare sight from the banshees of Malfoy Manor.

"It's the only way I can be sure you're a Malfoy. Password," she repeated. With another sigh, Draco leaned forward and was just about to speak the password when his eyes went wide with shock. Then he howled with glee, making his three companions look strangely at him.

"Are you all right, Draco?" Antonin wondered. Draco nodded furiously.

"I have it! The only way of reading my mother's book correctly. The only way she could be sure none but a Malfoy would be able to read it… of course…" he muttered, apparently very pleased with himself.

"Yes," Vladimir sighed. "Could we get along with this, mister Malfoy?" Antonin and Ivan smiled slightly, but Draco simply nodded.

"Of course…" once more, he leaned closer to the banshee, whispering to her so that no one else would overhear. "_Legibus et Armis_, my darling." She smirked nastily toward him and the painting swung aside gracefully. The grey-eyed young man waited only long enough to ask forgiveness of the three brothers for leaving them standing in the hallway.

"It's not a place that anyone not Malfoy by heritage or marriage should visit." In response, they nodded respectfully. Then, Draco rushed in, eager to get his hands on those elusive pages, and quickly found the book where he had left it only yesterday, considering it too dangerous a holiday to keep it in the open where it could get lost. The finely printed letters on the front cover were the same as always – his mother's name that he had seen so many times. He took it out and settled in a comfortable armchair by a huge table made of solid oak. He leaned in closer to the book and spoke quietly the Malfoy Key, the only password that would open any door created by a Malfoy: "_Legibus et Armis_". _I can't believe I didn't remember before,_ he scolded himself a little._ So obvious and yet so cryptic. _

Draco watched in silence as the book opened itself, flew past page after page and, at last, settled with one page standing straight up. Then the page… fell apart, half to either side, creating two pages only half as thick as the first, and the words began appearing.

_Malfoy who reads this, I am Narcissa of the Malfoy family. What would you like to know?_

Draco stared at the page, baffled, for a second before he took a quill from its stand on the table, dipped it in a box of ink that opened itself on his command, and wrote to the book of his dead mother:

_I am Draco Malfoy, your son._

_What do you know of the Azure Tear?_

The words that appeared next could not have shocked him more under any circumstances. He hadn't known it possible to do something like that… it must have been his Veela heritage. This meant that he was bonded to Harry Potter in more ways than one. The bond they shared could never be broken, that was why he had suddenly begun feeling Harry's moods since the first day they found the Azure… and somehow, Draco Malfoy still could not believe it.

"The reason… the reason my headache lessened here," he muttered to himself, "must be that the Manor is _part_ of my very _soul_. That the essence of my existence and all it means to be a Malfoy must be engraved in the castle walls… strengthening and relaxing me… and that part is still close to Harry."

On the page, words he could not force his eyes from continued appearing, an unexpected answer to a question, to the simple _how_ that had lived every generation of half-Veela, knowledge passed on from mother to daughter, from one to the next, even when its need was uncertain, because the knowledge was too complex and too great to be ignored.

Harry had left his rooms. There was a distinct need tugging at the back of his head – he wanted to… needed to talk to Draco about everything. Though he wasn't really sure what "everything" was supposed to be. After roaming the corridors for a while, Harry took off into a side corridor with no real reason – it was dark and dusty and didn't seem like a frequently visited place. There was no great likelihood of finding Draco there, but somehow he was drawn into the darkness of the passageway.

He had no idea where he was, he had been wandering aimlessly for some time, he could not really tell how long but he was guessing from the weariness that slowly began creeping up on him that he'd been walking for _quite_ some time – several hours, perhaps – and Draco Malfoy had not been anywhere. Harry wasn't really sure whether he was supposed to be happy or miserable about that… Draco hadn't exactly made his life easier, but somehow… well, he had thought about that since he woke up and he was no less confused than he had been from the beginning. He had resolved a few questions, but they had only led to more of their kind. Nothing would be _really_ explained until he found that pale young face that lingered in his mind, those lips like red wine, those eyes like liquid silver… his feet stopped walking on their own when he reached a dead end. He could simply not bring himself to begin again.

Harry Potter the eternal Hero felt empty… worn-out and cold. This place was too big to find one single person in. He had seen a few Slytherins that had lingered since the party about to get going, but none seemed eager to speak to him, but rather frightened or uncertain, pulling away as soon as they saw him. It made him furious at first, but the last hour or so he had not had very much of anything, not even the energy to respond to the rude portraits of ancient members of the Malfoy family, who had been muttering – or wailing – insults at him concerning anything from his clothing and hairstyle – somewhere during the night his leather shirt had disappeared into the fog. He was not really concerned as to where. It was a wondrous shirt, but it didn't really feel like him, like _Harry_.

_Oh yes it did_, his mind taunted him silently,_ you know you loved it, why do you hide from yourself? Is there anyone left to impress? And you know… Draco liked it, obviously. You _know_ his breath caught when he saw you, you could feel his eyes on you… and you liked it_.

He ignored the voice in his mind and sunk down on the floor with his back against the wall, but he could not escape from the memory of silver eyes sparkling in the moonlight as they asked for the one thing he'd somehow known all along was all the exquisite soul behind those beautiful eyes ever would truly ask for… and a honey-on-ice voice, burning with need, passed through his mind:

"_You have to kiss me first._"

It echoed, again and again, getting more and more vague until only two words remained, silently resounding in his ears, as he drifted to sleep in the silence.

"_Kiss me… kiss me… kiss me…_"

_A Slytherin dormitory, where a pale young man was fast asleep… a hand of his extended and words were muttered in the silence:  
_"Don't leave me so alone…"

_The feeling fluttered away, only to be replaced with another, a honeyed voice speaking to him, through the darkness…  
_"Have no fear."

_And another. A foggy memory of a morning long ago, in a home he had never considered his own… an accusation that had never been meant for daylight…  
_"Why didn't you attack him earlier? Then I wouldn't have been so alone…"

_And the images along with their feelings kept coming… Pain… the memory of mind-blowing _pain_ in the middle of his face, reaching for a wand, but somehow a lean figure_ _suddenly howled a spell that he himself had used to make that blonde hair fly through the air once. Now the pale young man stood with his wand out, pointing it at that great oaf Dud… howling with anger, his shimmering silver eyes filled with his own pain… and fear…  
_"Rictusempra!"

_A smile, when the huge corridors had seemed too great to be home to anything but giants, as his fears were swept away and his anxiety laid to rest by amused words, spoken with a lovely honey-on-ice voice he could not for his life forget…  
_"I could always hold your hand, if that'd make you feel better.

_A dream so long ago and yet he knew it could not be a dream. Had Draco loved him so intensely for that long, or was it not long at all?  
_"Hold me tight as frozen hell and never tell anybody, ok?"

_Grey eyes watching his closely, as if they could make him believe with a glance only. The words that followed made his heart tranquil… nothing could go wrong…  
_"Trust me."

_He was watching the silvery moon, surrounded by a silver snake, in the Slytherin circle, as he once more felt a hand touch his arm and draw him from his dreaming.  
_"Far away, Har?"

_A lake under a different moon, just as vibrantly shining, sitting beneath the branches of the huge oak, watching the light that played across the surface… it was…  
_"Green for your eyes, silver for mine."

_And above and below every memory it echoed, over and over again:_

"You have to kiss me first."

He woke to someone shaking him roughly.

"_Harry_," he could hear a wonderfully familiar voice cry.

"Yes," he muttered. "I'm fine. I just need to sleep, Drake… and then, when we're all rested you can tell me how I managed to get lost in this place…" He had almost fallen asleep again when somebody hit him on the head and he whined. "Ow! What was that for!"

"Usually better to use the correct amount of violence, Drahco," an unfamiliar voice spoke.

"Don't hit him, Vladimir," Draco whined. "He's gotten lost and not even holy Raistlin himself knows how long he's been sleeping in this damp corner. Thank the heavens for the house-elf who found him!" Harry looked up into Draco's face.

"Thanks for finding me, Draco," he mumbled lovingly. Draco simply nodded, pulling something shiny from one of his pockets. It took Harry a moment to understand that Draco was holding out the Azure Tear to him.

"Harry Potter, would you accept the Azure Tear from my hands? Would you accept the very essence of my _soul_?"

In the silence, the knowledge dawned on him and he smiled uncertainly.

"Yes, Draco, I will."

Russian language… They speak like… it's an elegant language, although not very delicate. Instead of calling Mr. Malfoy dra:y-cuh they say dra:h-koh. The Anadyr go to Durmstrang, pureblood Siberian family they are. Recommended music to just about _anything_ that concerns them would be the Soviet National Anthem. Especially when you meet Akasya… she's Russian, from Siberia, obviously bred on snow and vodka – that girl can be aggressive and stubborn like few others.

_Legibus et Armis_ is Latin and means "law and weapons" and it's the heart of Malfoy rule – at least if you have insider information. It's not like they keep common knowledge as passwords for their most secret chambers… dimwit.

REVIEW, please? I'm beyond happy for your reviews and if you have any questions or anything confuses you (yesh, my story ish confushing), just write me a line and I'll explain it some day when my eyes are clear of the smoke and Delirium has given me back my brain.


	10. An Episode of Music and Preparations

A/N: Sorry it's taken so long, but I have good news for you! The story's complete! I'm going to upload the last chapters (for the last 2-3 I have had to be my own beta 'cuz my betas had too much stuff to do, but I hope it'll do). Thanks to my betas anyway – me luvv u for who you are.

**CHAPTER 10 – An Episode of Music and Preparations**

"So you're telling me that this little… thing… is the essence of your soul, eh?"

"_Yes_! When will you understand it and stop chattering about it? I have told you all I know." In his mind Draco corrected this. _Or at least all I can tell you at the moment_. But the bending of truths was necessary at the moment and he didn't linger, it was necessary deception. "Now, more important matters. This is Ivan Anadyr, Vladimir Anadyr and Antonin Anadyr," Draco motioned toward each of the three as he mentioned their names. "Vladimir and Antonin are twins, obviously. Come, let's get you somewhere warm," Draco said lovingly, gathering the somewhat larger boy in his arms with seemingly no trouble at all, smiling possessively as he walked through the corridors.

In little more than five minutes Harry was safely tucked in the bed he had awoken in hours earlier, dazed and confused. His troubles seemed far away now and for some reason he could not even imagine a life when Draco was not near him, all that mattered was the closeness to the fair, soft skin and the relief from loneliness that it gave him. With the certainty that Draco would not leave his side, Harry fell asleep once more, silent and peaceful, his breath shallow but steady.

"It is as it should be, Draco," Vladimir noted quietly, in the strange accent of his. Antonin smiled and continued the train of thought.

"You two are like two pieces of a puzzle – neither complete without the other."

"Perhaps," Draco replied softly. "But should we not get to the point?" Half a second after his last word, there was a heavy thud against the window and the four young men jumped to their feet. Draco went over to the window, slowly and carefully opening it, ready to slam it shut in an instant. Flying upwards toward him came a grey owl, looking slightly stupefied. Draco sneered and let the bird in only long enough to untie the message it carried.

_To Mister Draco Malfoy_

_Malfoy Estate Manor_

_Your friend, D. E., is gathering his stuff, you can expect a visit soon. Hope you are all right and that all of the guests from yesterday are well, too. I would love to come visit you too, if it would be all right, send me an owl on the matter._

_Best wishes_

_Pansy Parkinzon_

"Holy Raistlin," Draco muttered. "This is bad, I didn't expect them to be gathered so quickly… after all, their great puppet master was recently killed." Then he smirked. "And Death Eaters aren't known for their ability to reorganize themselves."

"And what should be done now?" Ivan questioned from his viewpoint just behind Draco's right shoulder and Draco nodded, reading the letter once more.

"I know Pansy wants to come, and considering her odd spelling of her name I can just guess that Blaise is with her," the white-blonde boy mumbled to himself, "but we _have_ after all discussed those plans Akasya came up with and the second one is certainly one of my favourites… I don't want them in trouble and it's simple and kind of failsafe. If it's not… we'll just have to improvise, right?" The three Russians gave him three identical, tiny grins that made him feel quite safe – no matter what the Death Eaters were planning to hit him with.

"What security can we count on, Draco?" Ivan wondered and silenced his eager younger brothers. Draco smiled.

"Anything the Malfoy Estate Manor can give us." He walked over to one of the great windows and pushed aside a thick forest-green curtain, revealing a silver square in the castle wall. He pushed it gently and seconds later a voice like thunder itself rumbled from somewhere in the room.

"Who art thou?"

"I am Draco Malfoy, your rightful master. See me for who I am," the pale young man, who suddenly seemed very small though brave, recited from memory. A few quiet seconds later the voice rumbled through the room again, with a slightly curious hint to it.

"I acknowledge the master, I acknowledge that thou art the master, I have seen thee for who thou art. What are thy orders, master Malfoy?"

"That you keep the Winged Twilight vigilant, you know who are intruders and who are simply fools. No mistakes, please." There was a grumbling from the other one.

"It shall be as thou sayeth, master Malfoy." It was a reluctant reply, but Draco didn't seem to mind. _This is too important to waste time being nice; I'll have to make it up to him later_. _If I let him feast on a few of the dead Death Eaters he should be satisfied for the moment_. The three Anadyr brothers snickered in unison when he ended the conversation. He turned to them with one of his eyebrows arching higher than usual. Antonin took the chance to speak for them all in his sweet, honeyed, teenager voice.

"Winged Twilight, Draco? Isn't that slightly… melodramatic?"

"Blame it on my grandfather," Draco growled. "Blame _everything_ theatrical on either him or my oh-so-beloved father," he said grumpily, making the three brothers' sniggers ring out, replaced by three almost identical, subdued grins.

With a reproaching look in their direction, he turned back. They heard him mutter something under his breath and another voice came floating through the room.

"Yessir?" It sounded more or less like a squeaking house-elf.

"Keep the house-elves alert," the young man commanded sternly. "Defensive magic allowed until further notice. I expect immediate reports on any disturbances and irregularities, be it in the Manor itself or somewhere else on the estate. You have ten minutes to complete a list of all people and magical creatures on the grounds – additions or sudden changes are to be brought to me personally. Understood?" The last question was harsh. In many ways, Draco was still the Malfoy heir and his father's son.

"Yessir," the house-elf squeaked once more. Draco sighed and turned back to his friends, realising that something had woken Harry once more. It had probably been his first little chat – damn that creature for never keeping its voice on acceptable levels.

"Harry," he said lovingly, "sorry for waking you up."

"Not a problem, Drake," Harry yawned. "Anyway, there's this little thing I believe you promised me yesterday…" his voice trailed off and grey eyes stared at him. There was a twitch in the corner of Draco's right eye and then… he laughed.

"You're incurable!" This made Harry blush.

"Am not," he muttered.

"Are too, but I'll keep my promises." Draco turned to the three brothers. "Would you please enjoy yourself? I have things to attend to, it seems." Ivan grinned and bowed.

"Of course we will leave you to your… business." The twins kept unnaturally straight faces as they bowed calmly and exited along with their older brother – Draco had the distinct feeling that below that blank façade, they had actually been laughing at him. He growled, before turning back to Harry with a smile.

"Of course, if it's that important to you."

"It is," Harry said with a serious nod. Draco sighed and settled by the piano, putting a silencing-spell and, almost like an afterthought, also one locking-charm on the door. At last, Draco Malfoy forgot all about being the sole heir to one of the greatest wizard fortunes and names there was or being chased by Death Eaters for a certainly inappropriate relationship and simply became _Draco_. Or, as his mind teased him: _Drake_…

For minutes he sat there, letting his fingers warm up as they played over the piano in bits and pieces of everything, before he decided that time had come to go serious. He could feel Harry's awe. The emotion flowing through the bond had grown even stronger since the moment he had accepted the Azure, from the moment he had formally accepted the fact that his fate was tied to Draco's in more ways than that of a passionate enemy. Not to mention that the damnable pain would not disturb them anymore. Draco had learned so much from his mother's diary that afternoon, most of it would have to be kept secret – he had already told Harry about so many things he really shouldn't have. Though he wasn't sure Harry understood, really.

"I promised you… my favourite," Draco said as he drilled his fingers with his usual exercises, shivering slightly as he felt the tension letting go with the now-familiar warm touch of Harry's skin, as the comfortable feeling spread through his body, seemingly emitting from Harry's hand on the flexing muscles of his right shoulder.

"What about it?" Harry asked in a low voice that the playing one found extremely seductive. He stopped in mid-movement and lifted his fingers from the keys, turning to face Harry, who had to let go of the shoulder.

"If you stay as close as you are now," the pale boy breathed out, "I won't be able to concentrate as much as I have to. Go sit on the bed." It was a concealed plea, but Harry simply did as he asked. "Now, this is one of the most complicated arrangements ever composed. That means: please don't disturb me, ok?" Harry simply nodded at this and sat completely motionless, as Draco turned his swift, willowy fingers back to the keys and took a deep breath.

What Harry heard next had his emerald eyes widening, his jaw dropping almost to the floor and his gaze fixed on the fingers' unbelievably agile flight from key to key. After the first minute, staring at the fingers was impossible. A glance only had his vision blurring from the mighty composition's rapidly changing tunes. So he leaned back and let the monumental classical chords and ephemeral melody flow over him, until slender fingers spread out into the massive final chord, that echoed out into the room. With a sigh and a smile, the blonde lifted his hands slowly and turned to watch his unsteadily blinking soul-twin.

"That was…" Harry could find no words. His vision was still somewhat distorted, he figured, as the almost otherworldly, pale young man took the space between them in two mighty strides and settled on the bed, smiling.

"That was the Rach Three," Draco replied. "For you." He leaned slightly toward Harry and looked him questioningly in the eyes. His lips parted slightly as the raven-haired youngling's breath sped up and then slowly – ever so slowly – he leaned in.

Then they were interrupted by a squeaky voice out of nowhere, claiming to have the requested report for "Draco Malfoy-sir!" Silver pools of light looked accusingly at the door, but he rose from the bed with naught more than a sigh and a scowl nonetheless.

"Send it, then, you worthless piece of filth," he growled into thin air, making Harry frown.

"You really shouldn't treat them like that, Drake." His words made Draco turn to face him, one of his perfect eyebrows raised.

"Don't tell me you never take your anger out on anyone who's not directly responsible, Har. You'd be lying." And, as an afterthought, he added: "Besides, I'm tons nicer than my father ever was. Believe me." It didn't satisfy the offended young man, but he shut his mouth and resolved to look into thin air with a glum expression on his face. Being able to feel his indignation and general grumpiness, Draco smiled – somehow, a Malfoy face succeeded to produce a genuine, loving smile.

"You're rather sweet when you sulk, I'm sorry I don't have the time to enjoy your company."

"You're going away?" Harry looked up with a startled glance. "Where?"

"No, you prat," Draco teased, "I just told you I wouldn't be able to _enjoy_ your _company_. It's not the same thing, you know." Then the was a rustling sound and a parchment fell down from a hole in the bedroom wall into a cup beneath. "Good Merlin, did that take an awful lot of time," he growled and went over to pick the parchment up and read it.

"What's that?" Harry's voice was like music to his ears, but the blonde knew he couldn't afford to be distracted.

"It's a list of any and all people and magical creatures on Malfoy Island," he replied absent-mindedly, while skimming through the list in search of anything suspicious. "It seems most of the dragons are out hunting, the pegasi are hiding in their caves and the most irregular thing I can find here is two ravens circling right above a ragged cat."

"You find _that_ suspicious?" Harry grinned. A smirk passed swiftly over Draco's face.

"I understand your doubt, but what if they were three unregistered animagi? I'd rather go shut down the entire Manor, I think." The last was mumbled to himself, before looking up into the now disturbed, green eyes again. "Come with me." With that, he walked out of the room, with the raven-haired boy trailing in his wake, as he motioned for the three Russian men standing a little further down the corridor to follow him, guiding them away through the shadowy hallway.

Harry found the empty stone corridors of the castle strange, like his presence was more noted, and less liked, by the castle _itself_ when he was walking here rather than when he was in Draco's comfortable boy's chambers. Not that they were very boyish, but they felt like… felt like _Drake_, was probably the best way to explain it, and that was an odd thing, indeed. Somehow, he had begun relying on and trusting the lean, lithe blonde with his deep, glittering eyes and expressive way of using his entire body to communicate – or hide and fake – the emotion stirring in his sharp mind. These last weeks, Draco had not made him feel as awkward as he had for the past six and a half years and Harry had begun watching his every step in a futile search of the key to what was happening to his own emotions. He felt greatly relieved when they walked into the Entrance Hall of the Manor, since the formal air made him straighten automatically and collected his confused thoughts, pushing them into the background.

Draco motioned for his four companions to wait behind him as he went up to the fireplace, to a silver snake that looked like someone had petrified it while it slithered across the fireplace. Then he gripped it firmly behind the head, whispering something while he did this. To Harry's surprise, the snake started moving, slithering, trying to get out of Draco's grasp the silver snake hissed and bared its most certainly poisonous fangs.

"I am your master, do you acknowledge me, cousin?" There came a final hiss before the snake's head moved up and down in something that was unquestionably supposed to be a nod. A wicked smile passed ever so swiftly across Draco's velvet lips, making a chill run down Harry's spine… _for some reason_. He blushed slightly at the thought.

"Good. Tell the house-elf chief to keep an eye on the two ravens and the cat. Seal all the entrances. Close the floo, all but the one to my own place. You know the deal, there, so I trust you do it completely. There will be none of the foolishness my father was so proud of."

"_Asss you sssay_," there was a soft hiss from the snake. Harry was really surprised to hear it talk, not because he understood it – he was a parseltounge after all – but because it obviously spoke _English_, considering that Draco and the three guests apparently understood its words.

"Good. After the floo and the entrances, put up the shields, close those silly apparation holes in them – we're up against people who know they are there – and sound the alarm if someone tries to break through or gets in by some modified portkey." The snake nodded again and Draco put it back in its place, where it slid back to its former position and stiffened again. Draco turned to a rather confused Harry, smiling.

"What was all that about?" Harry wondered. "The part about Lucius and apparation holes and everything?"

"Father? He was always silly about keeping the Manor open to the Death Eaters. So now, we'd be in trouble if I hadn't been so much smarter than him. The apparation holes were designed to let Death Eaters and certain others through. So were the special floo passwords he used," Draco's beautiful, pale face was distorted by a disgusted grimace and a snort. "He never used the original way of closing the Manor down, he was always so simple-minded about his shortcuts. I bet he never even spoke to the snake." Harry realised that most of the conversation went straight over his head, but he understood some of it and nodded slightly. At least, it was enough for Draco, who turned to him with a calm smile on his lips. _Those lips…_

"Come," he whispered softly, taking Harry's hand and leading him toward the far wall. With a fleeting movement, his wand in his hand, Draco whispered: "_Revelate_." And part of the cold wall before him shimmered and disappeared. In silence, the pale one led his life's greatest desire and three wicked Russian tricksters down the stairs, the hole in the wall disappearing behind the last of them as they went into the darkness of the Manor's security chambers.

One magus, many magi. One animagus, many animagi. Just explaining why, considering many use words like "animaguses" or something equally horrid.


	11. Secrets of a Chamber and a Family

**CHAPTER 11 – Secrets of a Chamber and a Family**

"This, friends," Draco breathed in the dusty darkness, "is the holiest place of all in the Manor's defences… I give you," he said in a mock presentation, "the Deep Dungeon." He uttered the theatrical name with a sneer on his beautiful face and was pleased to hear the recognising sniggers from behind. "Yes, Ivan, our family has been an inbred, histrionic pile of incompetents, mostly, for the last hundred years. My grandfather, Ignatius, though I can't fathom how any mother would curse her child with such a name, renamed a lot of the castle for the worse. Thus," he declared dramatically, swinging his arm in a wide circle, his eyes narrowed in disgust and his pose mocking the whole thing, "he always would say; we stand in the Malfoy Chamber of Secrets." Harry's eyes widened at the name, Ivan's and one of the twins' snickers increased and the other brother simply shook his head in dismay.

"The…" The words didn't really want to come through, so Harry simply stood there with a seriously shocked expression, his mouth hanging daftly open.

"Yes, yes," his blond boyfriend sighed, "I know, it's stupid. I already told you that. It's like inviting every single auror in England over for tea to talk about your friendship with Voldemort. Now, hop along," he mumbled and suddenly dim lights went on. Harry couldn't really tell from where they were shining, since there was nothing to indicate a hidden source of light, but in the end he settled for the self-explanatory "magic" excuse.

A couple of corridors later they came to a wooden door with curious carvings. Harry understood some, meanwhile cursing himself for not paying proper attention in Ancient Languages – a course Hermione had forced him to take this year. Well, "forced" sounded so mean and Hermione was nice – it was just that she was so… _determined_. What little remained in his memory from those lessons, however, told him a lot about the carvings on the door.

There were runes and mystic symbols from all alphabets older than a thousand years that he had ever seen and more seemed to be alphabets he had never dreamed of. All the symbols he knew seemed to become words in front of his eyes as he watched them. Of the words, he only understood a fraction, but they almost reeked of formidable power and those he could decrypt reinforced that feeling.

"This," Draco whispered in a barely audible voice that spoke volumes of his respect for the door, "is the original safety precaution. All else are simply detours and things that can be overcome. This is the Door of Watching… and it has a soul."

"'Tis accurate, wizardling," came a voice out of nowhere, with a sound like stone carving in bone. "I am that, guesses or knowledge matter not. Now tell me, kin of my maker… why wouldst I let thee pass?" Two half-sphere shaped pieces of wood in the middle of the door rolled upwards and into a slit in the wood, revealing dull rubies in the shape of eyes. In the depths of those rubies, Harry could see a faint light.

"Because, mighty defender, I am what you called me – kin of your maker," Draco said calmly, with a faded smile on his thin, rosy lips.

"Prove it," the raspy voice commanded. Draco bowed twice and Harry almost thought he changed direction between the bows, as if bowing to two different entities instead of one. Then he took something that hung on the wall, a ritual dagger that Harry hadn't noticed before. He held up the dagger as if showing it to the door, before it flashed, in a movement too quick for the eye to perceive, across the pale palm of his hand. There was a muffled collective gasp and in mere moments, Harry had rushed to his side, ready to hold the slender body up with all his might, should Draco fall. It didn't happen.

"Here is my proof, kin of my kin, masterpiece of my ancestor's." With those words, he smeared the blood on his palm across the rubies, one after the other. The piece of wood that had moved before moved again, covering the rubies only to reveal them once more. Harry found a scary resemblance to two glowing, red eyes blinking with wooden eyelids.

Without further notice, the door swung open. Draco bowed twice again and the rubies were once more concealed. Close-up, the change of direction between the bows was even more distinct and Harry felt he simply had to ask about it. His question made Draco smile amusedly.

"You are right, Har. Perceptive, for once," he smirked teasingly, provoking a sulking look from Harry, which he wiped away with a light kiss on the darker one's cheek. Then he became serious once more. "There's a soul in each one of those things, though they look like rubies they are really the essence of those souls."

"Like you and your crystal?" Harry wondered, placing a hand over the pocket where he now constantly carried the Azure Tear.

"Yes, like that. They were kin of the Veela once, so I suspect it works the same way. I can't tell you what they were called or how they were, because I really don't know. Their species died out six and a half century ago, leaving nothing behind." The Anadyr brothers stood behind the two, watching silently, but Harry could not help notice that there were tears in the corners of the twin brothers' eyes and that Ivan faced the opposite wall with a blank expression. Draco continued.

"There are no accounts of their existence, except for a few in private libraries such as ours, because we – the wizards and witches of that time – were the reason they were wiped out. They were hunted, much like I've heard muggles hunt some animals when they sometimes almost catch a magical creature or two in the process. When the last one of those was extinct, however, any and all scripts that mentioned them were rewritten and the old text was burned."

"That's… horrible," Harry whispered hoarsely. "The muggles did the same thing during the Second World War – killing without reason and burning books." To this, Draco nodded slowly.

"It seems neither we nor the muggles are really getting any brighter, don't you think?" he asked silently. "There will always be more death, more destruction. Right now, I only want to live my life in peace. Why's that not okay?" Regardless of the despair that burned in the beloved grey eyes, Harry could find no answer. In silence, Draco brought out his wand, healing the deep, bleeding cut in his hand and in silence, the five young individuals walked into the room. Harry didn't even notice the room they had walked into, deeply immersed in his thoughts, explaining his total bafflement when he suddenly found himself standing in front of some sort of a computer. A flick of wand later the screen went on and Harry realised that there were several other screens in the room, all showing different views. The one they were standing in front of pictured the huge entrance to a cave of some sort, situated in a small glade and surrounded by trees covered in a thin layer of snow. Nothing in the picture moved, but for a few of the thinner branches, caressed by the wind. There were footprints in the snow, leading into the cavern and the same time Harry saw this, Draco hissed angrily.

"They're going to corner the pegasi, those bastards!" His face had suddenly turned a reddish shade, his eyes flashing dangerously and his voice hinted of rage on a _very_ tight leash. "View, inside the cave," he commanded furiously and the scene changed.

It was a rather dark cave, lit by some luminescent pulse coming from the walls. The first thing Harry noticed was the group of brightly shining pegasi cornered in the far end of the cave. The second was the group of perhaps half a dozen individuals cornering them and what lay at their feet. Seeing the creature, like beauty incarnate even in death, Draco howled – a terrifying sound, full of heart-wrenching pain and loneliness.

"That woman… she's given our family nothing but grief." Draco muffled a wail by biting his lower lip so hard it almost started bleeding.

"Whom?" Ivan asked, careful not to speak to loudly or with any kind of aggression, and Harry was glad that the elder man was so considerate.

"Her," Draco growled, pointing at the only woman on screen, a prissy-looking witch with whitened hair and a stern, nasty look on her face. Harry decided that he dared clarify Ivan's question, since Ivan himself didn't look like he wanted to push Draco's rage any further. Harry hoped that he had a somewhat higher limit than the Siberian man.

"Who is she, Drake?" he wondered silently, sensitive enough to stay an arm's length away, realising that his beloved Slytherin didn't really want to be touched at the moment.

"You don't know who that is, Har?" Draco wondered stiffly. Then he paused, seemed to compose himself and shook his head, more as a gesture to himself than anything else. "Of course you don't, the Ministry has believed her dead for the past sixteen years, or she would be the most hunted witch on Earth." His blazing gaze returned to watch the ghastly witch on the screen.

"Who is it?" Harry wondered in a hushed voice, his eyes touched with terror, but even more with something Draco could clearly identify his own feelings for the woman with – that perfect mix of anger and disgust. Keeping his emotions on a tight leash, he continued

"_That_ is Priscilla Montgomery. She's the most devious witch there ever was, not to mention that she went to school with Tom Riddle. She was one of his fiercest followers, cold-hearted and scrupulous – she was more or less his right hand. The reason they never realised she was still alive …" Draco trailed off as he watched the old woman on the screen give orders and sweep her knife-edge gaze out through the cave-opening and across the visible parts of the Malfoy grounds with burning commitment blazing in the depths of her black eyes.

"How come the Ministry never noticed she was alive?" Harry wondered in a coarse whisper. Draco was pulled back to reality and shrugged.

"Oh, her shape-changing abilities managed that. Much like Peter Pettigrew, although he was definitely sloppy in comparison. The entire High Council of Death Eaters knew that he was alive and could have pinpointed his location, had they thought it worth the while. Montgomery was much, _much_ more careful than Wormtail could ever dream of being." Draco leaned back, his gaze still locked on the white hair and the piercing, black eyes.

"Is that why I've never heard of her?" his green-eyed counterpart wondered. Draco smirked nastily and shook his head.

"No, you've heard of her all right, but the only one who ever knew her truly was you-know-who himself – and he used to call her _Nagini_."

"Holy Raistlin's cold corpse," Ivan breathed. "My father has spoken of this woman – in whispers only and never much." Draco slowly nodded.

"I have always suspected her of so much…" his voice trailed off and Harry took the chance of putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. He allowed Draco to take his time, keeping silent but moving a little closer. A shadow of a smile flickered over Draco's face, but when it had passed, he seemed even more depressed.

"Contrary to what my father thought, I have always believed her guilty of what happened to my brother." Green eyes widened in surprise, only to narrow again. The Anadyr brothers turned their gazes away with deep sorrow in their eyes. The question that followed was cautious and Harry's hand did not stray from the shoulder where it had settled, seeing the desperate solitude that had dampened the raging fire in those diamond eyes.

"You've had a brother?" The question sounded carefree, but there were layers of emotion that were easily unveiled, were one to watch for them.

"Of course…" Draco mumbled slowly. "I had an elder brother once… and a little sister." Draco watched the screen, the terrible rage burning in his eyes for a second made Harry a little more disturbed and extremely anxious.

"Where are they now, Drake?" he wondered, not sure if he really wanted to hear the answer.

"It's been a long time," Draco muttered to himself, obviously not sure whether he _wanted_ to answer, either. "I'm not certain… Oh, well," he sighed. "My brother was on his way home from Hogwarts, his second year and I was going to go there with him the next summer, when he came home from third year…" Draco paused, drawing a deep breath before he continued, "…and he never got to the apparation point in Hogsmeade where father would meet him." For a long moment, there was silence.

Harry gently stroke back some strands of hair that had fallen into Draco's face. _And I though I'd had a bad childhood_.

"They found him the next day…" Draco's voice broke and he straightened and stared into empty space, his eyes blank, before he had gathered the strength to continue. "He was lying beneath Whomping Willow, his body was bloody and cold… torn to pieces." No matter how much Draco tried to hide it, Harry suddenly felt a tiny shiver run through the lean body.

"Drake…" he whispered and embraced the pale young man, holding him close, but not daring to speak more, for fear that it might shatter the frail moment.

A minute later, grey eyes had stopped fighting their tears and the tears had withdrawn, leaving behind only reddened eyes. Draco felt unbelievably sad and a little angry. He had made a deal with himself, stating that there would be no more childish sobbing. He was a Malfoy, after all. With a deep breath and a strained sigh, he continued his story.

"A month later my baby sister was playing with her nanny by the lake… they were found drowned in a search when they hadn't come inside for dinner. After that, I was carefully watched and a few dead conspirators later no more attempts were made…" he choked. It was rather sensitive to speak of the assassination attempts, especially considering how hard they had been on his mother – who had almost gone insane – and his cold-blooded father, who after that found peace only in the possible resurrection of the Dark Lord. _And me… ten years old and suddenly no siblings nor parents to rely on. But that weakness strengthened me, I'm not allowed to be so frail anymore. There are things that must be done; she can't do this to us… To me_.

"Things have to be done," he said, turning to his beloved. "I have to go, Har, but I'll be back." He let his lips lightly brush Harry's cheek before walking out through the Door.

"Wait, Drahco," came a voice. "We will be accompanying you, for the sake of Anadyr pride, of course," Vladimir smiled. Draco let a tiny smile touch his lips for a second as he nodded. He silenced Harry's attempt to speak with a shake of his head, sadly locking their gazes for a moment, before turning away again, green emerald eyes following his every step until he was out of sight, hidden by the golden blonde hair of the Russian twins, when Harry was left to his own, dark thoughts with only the company of a black-haired, ghost-like man he didn't know.

In the fading daylight outside, Draco dealt out two commands – a stern one to a house-elf and a subtler one into thin air. The house-elf didn't answer.

_It's a trap,_ Draco concluded to himself, walking briskly across the field. _Or they would have come straight for me. I only hope… oh, drat, I can't get sentimental now. I have to be determined. Determined_. In the darkness of his mind, the resolute young man's memory kept replaying a single face, over and over and over again. _I don't have the time to be dull… if hope is to be had, it's that my orders are carried out efficiently. Now's not the time of thoughtless heroics, or Harry would have been by my side – my true epic hero… Now is time for protection of the nastier kind… and I'll need the stealth and wits of a true Slytherin, a true Malfoy_.

In the darkness of a secret chamber, a house-elf scuttled to the only entrance and exit to the Manor itself with a tiny piece of parchment clutched in its right hand. It glanced around the tiny cell-like space anxiously for a second before disappearing like a put-out candle.

Somewhere above a great head turned to stare in the exact direction of the place that the house-elf had disappeared from, though there were several thick stone walls in between. Lips curled into a grin, baring sharp fangs, large as a human arm. It moved with a rustle of scales and breathed out something like a sigh, speaking in its own, rumbling tongue to the winds and the sky.

"_So it begins_."

There's going to be a little action too. Not much, but it will be a little fluffy, probably slightly cliché ( there's going to be violence, killing and blood but I'll keep the entrails to myself and in the end there'll be bonding over it grins).

So, I'm telling you **_NOW_ **people – **_there will be violence in the next chapter_**. Not much, really, but it's better to shout a warning before rushing along, eh?

Reviews? puts on a face stolen from an angel


	12. The Ways of Frenzied Wizards

**CHAPTER 12 – The Ways of Frenzied Wizards**

Harry stood quietly in the underground chamber watching the scene as the tension and the heavy air of the room made it difficult to breathe. The black-clad wizards and witch on the screen seemed to be waiting for something, or someone. They didn't seem to care overly much about the pegasi corpse, instead turning their gazes to the cave opening.

"Harry Potter?" he heard the Russian man call to him. Reluctantly he turned from the scene to where the elder Anadyr stood. The screen he was looking at showed a green field with a black spot on it. Harry moved closer, in an attempt to figure out what Ivan had meant to show him.

"Zoom in," Ivan muttered. "Too much," he corrected when the view quickly closed in on the target, but the proximity had allowed Harry a closer look at the black spot.

"Death Eater," he hissed angrily. Then he drew a panicking breath. "Draco doesn't know!"

"He doesn't," the black-haired man agreed and in a weak moment Harry thought he resembled Snape – that would be, if Snape had had light blue eyes and a less foul mood. Quickly, he disregarded the thought and ran for the door. He heard a sigh and as he shot out he heard the heavy thuds of Ivan's feet as the man followed him.

Draco couldn't really tell how long it had taken them to walk across the lands of the ancient Malfoy family, only to face this. He stood between the Anadyr twins, where he felt safe. He had been engaged to their elder sister, once. It was certainly bad timing for bouts of remembrance, but all he could do was to keep concentrating on the several Death Eaters, including that _hag_ Montgomery, while his brain reviewed that part of his life. _I was kind of happy, now that I think about it… Akasya was at least not some stupid bitch, like my mother. We could have made ourselves a decent living if Akasya hadn't been so sure of what she wanted to do. She would never truly have accepted a marriage to me and then how could I, father? You never really cared anyway, as long as your son married in pure blood and had perfect little heirs. But you never knew her story… _He smirked at the thought before his train of thought broke in favour of something more dangerous.

In one swift movement, one of the hooded Death Eaters that stood out of Nagini's line of sight pulled out his wand. As he pointed it at a slightly dishevelled Draco, just as Nagini realised something was happening behind her, a shadow shot past the three young men in the cave's opening.

"Avad-" Before the word ended, the voice had drowned in a horrible roar of animalistic rage. The shadow stopped, its sharp carnivore teeth burying deep in the mage's throat and then drawing back, ripping flesh and bone with a horrifying sound. In a weak moment, one of the other Death Eaters moved his hand in the direction of his wand and in a fraction of a second the great monster had dropped its prey to attack the threatening mage.

Draco heard the twins behind him draw in breath sharply and saw them come forth, one on each side of him, drawing their wands in deadly sync, holding them prepared but not aggressive and motioning to Draco to follow their lead. And they watched as the cave turned into a battlefield with shrieking pegasi, bleeding Death Eaters and a rampaging werewolf, greater and with more elegance than any other Draco had ever seen. It didn't touch the pegasi, the three youngsters or Nagini and when it stopped as quickly as it had begun they were the only ones left.

"How far?" Harry wondered, breathing heavily. He didn't know why he expected the older man to know what he couldn't even guess at himself, but asking wouldn't hurt.

"Two or three hundred metres," the voice behind him replied coolly.

"Thanks," Harry breathed. It was all he could do not to fall on his face. He estimated that they had run half a mile already and he was definitely out of breath. But somehow, the sureness of the elder man's voice made it easier. Just this last part and they'd be able to… well, he wasn't really sure what he was supposed to do. _But I have to do something, I can't give up, knowing I send Draco into a trap. Nothing's over yet, I still have a chance… a chance to… oh, whatever, we'll see when…_ His train of thought was interrupted by the sight of black robes, billowing lightly in the breeze. They were mere metres from the trees. _I have to get to them before that_, he decided. Sweat was running down his face, his legs ached and his head pounded, Ivan's footfalls behind him resounded like hammers or thunder.

"Let's… get'em," he shouted, ripping his wand from its pocket and pointing straight at a Death Eater. Afterwards, he couldn't tell what Ivan shouted, and by that time nothing mattered. Nothing but him, his wand, his prey and the raw instinct of protecting Family. He could feel the emotions taking control like never before, but it didn't seem to matter. Something in his mind screamed at him that he was losing it all, but a thought he could not however much he tried recognize as his own compelled him turn to the one solution possible. And a thought without doubt his own broke his last defences: _I'll take them on forever and give my life to it, if that's what it takes to protect_… And as that final thought dissolved to be a simple feeling of certainty, so did his consciousness, losing control of who, even what, he was in the pure fire of rage that can only be born from the primal beast within.

"Fools, every last one of them," Nagini growled at her dead companions. "If they have neither knowledge nor wits they can just well be dead." At this, Draco raised an eyebrow at the twins, who smirked knowingly back at him.

"Of course she's bluffing," Vladimir said, almost laughing, just loud enough for all those few left in the cave to overhear, "only very few know the specifics of the Siberian werewolf and why it's so dangerous." He beckoned to the huge creature, which dried its bloodied snout with a great paw before moving with lethal grace toward the three. Draco could not help but back off a few steps as it moved closer.

"But… it's not even a full moon out tonight," he argued, panic not too far in his voice. "It won't be full moon for a week or more!" It was all just dawning on him. He hadn't truly realised what everything meant as he agreed to do this.

"No, that's one of the points with the Siberian-type werewolf," Antonin said with a smile, stroking the fur of the great animal – Draco realised it must be at least eight feet tall – but stopped when it snarled at him. "I'll tell you later when you don't have to attend to your guest." With a nod Draco circled behind Antonin to the right side, where he had Nagini in clear view again and not blocked from it by a furry killing-machine.

"Yes, I have to…" he hesitated a second, before smirking mischievously. "I have to 'take care of' my guest." A snort could be heard from the "guest" in question.

"Fool boy," Nagini grinned darkly, "you seem to have learned nothing during the years your fool father tried to tutor you." Then she smiled sarcastically. "Or you have something in store for me I have not yet thought of." Draco smirked.

"You think, Montgomery? Well, let's hope I have then, shall we?" With those words, Draco reached for a part of his belt and pulled – unveiling a hidden, one foot long dagger. He held it up and moved slightly toward her, swinging the dagger aggressively in exact half-circles in front of him, still careful that he didn't hit Antonin or the beast. She leaned back slightly and waited for him, ignoring the dagger completely and with her gaze fixed on his diamond eyes.

"What do think to achieve, little boy?" she taunted him. "You will never be your own, child, after everything that has happened to you. You will never be accepted amongst those who think themselves better than us." Draco seemed to hesitate half a second._ Merlin, she has to take the bait, no matter how false it rings in my ears_, he prayed while the sweat fought to break out on his forehead. She could not be hurt the ordinary way.

"They will find a place for me when I save their saviour," he growled. "A place you could and would never give me." His words made her laugh, a dark, mocking laughter.

"So you say, but think about it, child. Think about it," she suggested menacingly, a dark gleam in her eyes. Draco hesitated yet again, his steps faltering until he stood still, still ten feet from her. "I can offer you so much more. If you continue this foolishness I may have to make sure you don't try anything," she threatened, a vile glimpse flickering in her near-mad eyes. "But try, boy," she sneered, "I'd be impressed if your father taught you _anything_, being the fool he was."

"My father was no fool, bitch," Draco growled, his eyes narrowing. _Or at least one of us didn't think so – you always had your weaknesses and one of them was trusting my father_. She simply smirked and stood entirely still while Draco drew closer, now only a couple of feet from her with the swinging knife. There was silence, except for the swishing sounds of the blade cutting through air, for a few seconds. Then everything happened at once.

Draco changed the direction of a backswing, in the process cutting a deep scar in his upper right arm without blinking while the knife continued forward. Had the woman not turned it would have embedded itself in her chest, now instead hitting her arm. She let out a hiss of pain as he jumped back. There was shock in her eyes, mingled with fear, awe and pain.

"The blood poison…" she croaked, gasping for breath as she fell to the floor. Draco nodded sternly, eyes burning with a cold passion.

"The blood of one Voldemort marked before I was born… the potent blood of one born to be of the great _family_ of Death Eaters." The words were uttered in a truly disgusted tone. "You know that blood, Nagini, even when you didn't want to remember it," he spit at the old woman with a dark sarcasm as she writhed in pain on the stone floor of the cave. "It assured I'd never be free of you – you were always envious of us, we who were bonded to your master and would have become his closest allies and best assassins, had we been marked in time. But he didn't really realise along the way that _he_ would never be free of _us_, that the magical poison we could call for whenever we wished could be used against him."

He watched her in silence for a moment. Her breathing was not just laboured now, but wheezing and dying out, her cramps lessened when she had not the strength to fight them anymore. His true nemesis, the origin of his worst nightmares was dying in front of his eyes. Harry was a hero, he could never have killed her. Heroes killed archfiends and daemon kings in flashy one-on-one fights, but the smaller fiends, the daemon princes and underlings could not be killed with heroics. Why? He was guessing on the answer, after thirteen years of wondering. _To shape the hearts of men you need heroics, but to build freedom you might need sacrifice that heroes are not prepared to give. To save more than morals and pride you need the spirit of Slytherin… the cunning and the readiness to do what is necessary – what _must_ be done_, he thought to himself. _That must be the riddle's answer, the truest piece of the puzzle_.

On the floor, Priscilla Nagini Montgomery let out a last, wheezing sigh and her body trembled one last time before going to its deserved rest.

"There will be a price to pay," Draco whispered. A slender hand, covered in the blood of Death Eaters, was placed upon his shoulder.

"There always is, Malfoy," Akasya Anadyr's shaky voice concluded. "There always will be. Killing is never without consequence." The blonde, paler than usual, turned to the dark-haired girl who stood where the beast had been and met the smile from her weak, blood-stained lips. Then the smile lightened up. "Now, let's go have a look at the rest of the world, shall we?" she suggested cheerily, the stains on her face and hands in bizarre contrast to her sudden cheerfulness. But the three men, though not quite as jovial as she, weren't late to pick up on her proposal, Draco first making sure the pegasi had enough food and water, levitating the corpse with a deep sigh, to where it could be properly taken care of later. There had been no other injuries, but today would not be a day of mourning – the grief would be in his heart, where it belonged. Akasya conjured up a handkerchief from somewhere to dry off the worst of the stain from her hands and face as the four walked together out into the shimmering winter sunlight.

"Looks like the rest of the day is going to be wonderful," Akasya said with a grin. The boys nodded with similar smiles, letting their gazes travel across the forest.

And a pillar of pure fire rose to the sky in the distance.

As the terrified Draco Malfoy rushed past the last trees he couldn't really find the relief he had been hoping for. Harry seemed alive, where he sat in the middle of a scorched landscape. Apart from his shaking, sobbing body there seemed only one thing alive; the severely burnt body of Ivan Anadyr, whose pained cries cut the air like white-hot fire. In a wordless agreement, Draco rushed to Harry's side as the other three begun the exhausting process of healing their beloved brother.

As he sat down he realised that something had happened to Harry beyond the few scratches that physical and magical attacks could have achieved. He breathed heavily between the desperate sobs. His words came in almost unheard whispers, creating a truly sorry sight.

"I… I killed them all, Drake… the world shook and the fire was so hot it burnt them to ashes… I don't know where it came from, I was just so desperate…" Draco placed a finger on his love's lips and the bright green eyes turned to watch their silver twins.

"I know, Harry. I've seen it before, in other dragon-possessed. When in rage or desperation, it works that way. You saved Ivan, at least. He's alive and he'll be well, not to mention so will you." But Harry seemed to have stuck halfway, on one word…

"Dragon-possessed?" he whispered shakily. Draco nodded calmly.

"I asked them to watch over my most precious and when you lunged headfirst into battle they couldn't very well fight alongside you – you'd have been burnt to ash. So the strongest of their kin here possessed you. You must have rushed into some frenzy, burning away as much as you have." Draco kept talking, knowing that Harry held onto every scrap of sanity he had to keep from going mad. _That's what you get for being naïve, love… _he thought to himself, as he kept talking nonsense. _That's what you get for being a true hero, Har… pain and confusion._ And as he picked the Azure Tear from the pocket where Harry had kept it, he watched the sky, his eyes glued to a black spot in the blue before deciding that it had to be done now or never. He only had to do as his mother had told him to. _When you feel it – and trust me, you will_, she had written. _You have to make sure you're both prepared. You must have your soul-mate's agreement, first, and then this is what you must do…_

"Har?" he said, cutting off his own monologue in mid-sentence.

"Yes?" Harry wondered.

"Could you accept being totally bonded to me? Like, no secrets now or ever and stick together for as long as we both live?" _That should do it. He's theatrical, but if he's not onto it it'll be serious enough for him to neglect, or want to wait or anything._ Draco didn't really want to think about what was going to happen if Harry denied this proposal. He himself… well, he would search for another mate. It had happened before, never to veela, but half-veela rather often found second mates to keep them from wasting away. Something about their human blood made them less picky. _And honestly, why should Har…_ his thoughts were brutally interrupted as the most important answer of his life crossed Harry Potter's lips.

"I thought we already were?"

In later years, it would be a moment for them both to think back on, how they had been so innocent, never suspecting the simple truth of it all. How far apart they had been, even as they embraced, even as they accepted each other for who they were. Thinking back on that moment when Draco cut the Azure Tear in two, embedding one part of his soul in himself and the other in the only one his heart would ever more desire, feeling the shock of truth as they realised the depth of their agreement – that no bonding they had ever heard of, magical or otherwise, had dreamed to be so true. That there was in fact, no turning back.

They stood silent, watching the sky. There would never be any need for words. There would be need for adaptation, of course, but the words for it would be at a loss compared to the freedom of knowing exactly what they shared. This glimpse of truth woke then and there, as two dozen Aurors landed on Malfoy grounds, led by a grumpy man whose frown of disgust had been momentarily replaced by a frown of worry, turning to an extremely short-lived smile as the dark eyes hidden beneath greasy black hair beheld two young men, blazing with life as they were. He saw Draco leaning in, whispering a few words into Harry's ear before giving him a light kiss on the cheek that made the elder man sigh and shake his head in something very similar to pure disgust. Draco smirked as he realised – not without glee – how trying the day was going to be for his mentor, but the smirk slipped for a second and one could perhaps, if one was quick enough, glimpse a genuine smile as the words he had spoken resounded not only in his love's ears, but also in his own.

_I sure do enjoy your company._

Ok, ppl. So this is it, next chappie is the epilogue. If I've found any loose ends (probably not half of them, really) I'll tie 'em up. It's placed weeks after the ending of this one… I'll say goodbye to My Azure Tear and read more of other people's stuff. I might come around, but it's going to take time (I've been onto reading this 162 chapter Hermione/Snape that's totally cool but kind of long (almost 1 500 pages))


	13. Epilogue Diagon Alley

A/N: So, this is goodbye. I might be back another time, but for now I'm going to England for three months to work. I'm going by boat sunday. I hope you enjoyed the story. Look out, or I might drop a story on your head when you're not looking. Thanks for your reviews. I'm glad I managed to finish this before I went away.

waves and blows kisses, then retreats into the shadows, leaving only a battered parchment behind… one that says:

**EPILOGUE – Diagon Alley**

This was _it_. For real. He had known since the day he realised he was in love with Harry – or something similar to love – that sooner or later he would be forced to recognise them.

"I don't like it, Har," he grumbled. "And I don't see that you have any logical reasons for forcing me to do this." He knew that was a lie, really, considering they were his best friends, but that didn't stop him from sulking a little. It was not like he wasn't going to face them. Of course he would – Harry had been bugging him for weeks about it. And there had been no real arguments from the beginning, except for the usual ones – and those usually ended with kisses… Draco had known Harry well before and there was no hiding now. The dark-haired little devil would not give up on this matter.

"But you will do it." The voice would brook no nonsense. "Come on." With those words, the Hero of the World, Draco Malfoy's soul-brother, marched in through the door of the restaurant in Diagon Alley where he had decided to meet Ron and Hermione after they had come home from visiting Charlie in Bulgaria. They would all be back in school tomorrow and it was best to have it all over. He had gone as far as telling them he was seeing someone in his letters. He had even corrected them when they without a second thought assumed that it was a girl. But how could he have told them? Him and Draco were so close, although they had learned to shut each other out partly there was no way they could be separated as long as the shards of that odd little crystal lived on in their hearts. He was not sure if Ron would understand that. Hermione was another matter, she could always be convinced by logic, but Ron could be stubborn and bone-headed when it got to things he didn't understand.

"_Harry_!" Hermione jumped from the table and sprung at him and wrapped her arms around him, smiling angelically while nearly knocking him over in the process. "I have missed you so terribly," she almost whined at him before letting go to sit down beside her boyfriend at the table again.

"Hey, mate, the entire family's been missing you," Ron said in a haughty, yet affectionate tone. "Mum kept whining about you not being able to come along, but you can go with us next year! It was totally cool…" The red-head suddenly seemed to remember why they had a table for four instead of three. "Ahh," he almost stammered, "where's your… uh, boyfriend?" There was a distinct reddish nuance to his cheeks.

"Oh yeah," Harry replied, suddenly very nervous himself. This wasn't easy, but he couldn't remember when his life last had been easy. This was simply a new kind of trouble, one he wasn't used to. That thought didn't make this the slightest easier, however. "He'll be inside in a moment," he mumbled, green eyes somehow only watching the table. "Wanted to give us some time together first."

"Well, that's nice," Hermione said. He could almost hear the way she always smiled when saying such things, but there were hints of curiosity and caution. Very Hermion-esque, for sure. _Like a_ _little hen mother_, Harry thought, _always trying to keep the chickens under her wing_.

After a couple of minutes, Draco figured he would not gather more courage by just standing there. _This is so utterly and, to be frank, brutally awkward. There just is no getting out of this with my honour _and_ my insides both intact. Whatever innocence Har holds for those two, _that_ has certainly not spread…_ he thought harshly to himself. _I have no illusions about what they might do if they believe I am bad influence on him… I did grow up with my father, after all._ As the thoughts passed through his mind he also came to the conclusion that he was only postponing the inevitable and that the wisest thing to do now – except for turn tail and run – would be to get inside and get this over with.

Being who he was, Draco stood nailed to the spot for another minute before amassing enough willpower to do so.

"Harry," Ron hissed to his friend. "Guess who just came in through that door to spoil our day!" He sounded annoyed and Harry was quite sure that he must be.

"I have a pretty good idea," he mumbled, but there was no reaction from Ron. Hermione, on the other hand gave him a questioning look that spoke volumes of her thoughts. Which, if he knew her right, were probably even more volumes than she expressed. His brown-haired best friend always had a lot to say about _everything_. Things such as this… would probably make her even more opinionated than usual. Not that it really mattered, she would accept the decision sooner or later.

"Ugh, Malfoy warning," Ron mumbled.

"I know, Ron. I invited him." Those three words took all his world-famous courage and the straight face that followed was harder than that, but somehow he managed to meet Ron's stunned glance with an emerald gaze of his own.

"_What_?" Ron's comment would have been a scream, were it not for that he half-choked on his sandwich in the process – a fact that Harry had to ashamedly admit he was kind of happy for. He would have been happiest if there was no grand scene to handle – _but that would probably be asking too much_, he thought with a sigh.

"Ron, be calm," Hermione chided him absent-mindedly, her slightly narrowed eyes fixed upon the silver-haired Slytherin she had disliked so intensely. There was, in her eyes, in fact something changed about him. The way he walked was less arrogant, though no less certain. His eyes, first fixed on Harry's back, turned to meet hers and held more questions than the preposterous answers-to-everything she had gotten used to. It could be a scam, that much was certain. A Slytherin was a Slytherin for a reason. And again, Ron interrupted her train of thought. He still sounded half-choked, but this time it didn't have anything to do with his meal.

"You can't seriously… but, mate, you know who he _is_!"

"Yes, Ron," she heard Harry agree. This was like a dream – or more precisely a nightmare. Hermione didn't _really_ have a problem with her best friend being gay, but this was more than that… light-years further, in her opinion. And she watched in silence as the storm broke out between her two best friends. There had been issues between them before, for sure, but none of this magnitude, and Harry _believed_ in this. She could read it in his eyes, his body language, his words. What she was uncertain of was simply whether he was right to believe, considering whom it was he believed in. Then, to her surprise, Harry was interrupted in mid-defence by a lean hand on his shoulder.

"Harry, please," Draco whispered softly to his lover. "Don't." As green eyes sought out icy grey ones with all the obvious questions clear in his gaze, the pale boy smiled weakly.

"What?" Harry wondered, dazed and confused. The sorrow in the eyes he saw could not have been deciphered by anyone who did not truly know Draco Malfoy as the dark-haired Golden Boy now did, but deciphering it did not help explaining it to Harry. Draco's expression and attitude spoke of certainty, even of his old arrogance, but his eyes told quite another story.

"I don't belong here," Draco explained, almost as if speaking to a child. "I couldn't before and I can't now. When we choose to be who we are we don't ask everyone if they're all right with it and in turn, very few ask us in return before judging us for who we've chosen to be." A pale hand caressed a darker cheek fondly. "People grow apart, because of the paths they choose. It is the way of things that any piece of a puzzle doesn't fit with every other. I will wait for you outside, don't hurry. Spend some time with your friends, that's what I want." With that, he turned, leaving Harry standing where he had risen as his love spoke, still stubbornly refusing to accept the solution, but unable to find the words to stop Draco from withdrawing. Hermione reached across the table put a comforting hand on his.

"I still can't say I like him," she stated in a thoughtful manner, "but you have to believe him when he's right."

And through the streets of London people walked past the lean, pale boy standing on a corner. He seemed to be patiently waiting for something, or someone. The perceptive onlooker might have noticed something strange about him. Most would have discarded it as foolishness, but there was a kind of glow in his eyes – grey as winter skies – one that was not common even in the wizard world. There was something special about that boy. Those who recognised him as the Malfoy heir turned away their inquisitive glances, afraid to anger the young man, but couldn't help but cast a last glance as they walked past.

But they would not have been able to see into his heart, where a shard of a jewel resided –half a teardrop, where it kept shining as brightly as a sun of ocean-blue resting in a foreign universe, continually calling to its other half. The song he could hear emitting from his heart was solitary like a lost werewolf whose cry echoed across the chill of the tundra, searching for the part that would complete the song and give peace to the unwitting composer. But he stood there, patiently allowing his heart to wail its loneliness to the skies, for the young man in that street seemed certain.

The rain clouds gathered slowly over the city, preparing to wash away the last of winter's snow for the year. They were thunderclouds, and the flashes of lightning were already dancing in the distance, above the skyscrapers. In the young man's home, the dragons would be soaring in a storm like this one, battling in the clouds, playing with the lightning. Tonight, he and Harry would return to his home. This one time, Draco would ask his friends of the sky to dance. They enjoyed it tremendously. And in his heart, Draco was convinced that Harry would, too. If they were lucky, they would both dance with those dragons tonight.

He carefully turned a page in the book he hid in his newspaper, for he would not allow it to be taken from him. There was still much to learn – a lifetime of his mother's knowledge – and both he and his lover would be there to see it through to the end.

finis


End file.
